


Harry Potter and The Death Wish

by Hasegawa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, horcrux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-20
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-10 08:33:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 77,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hasegawa/pseuds/Hasegawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He always wishes for death. He wants it so much it hurts. But nobody wants him die. Even his enemies. Why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters and Hogwarts belong to JK Rowling and her affiliates. I own my plot. 
> 
> Pairing: Well, I love TR/HP, but lets see...
> 
> Beta reader: Blind_alchemist
> 
> Rating: M.
> 
> Enjoy!

Harry Potter was not your usual 11 year old boy. Now, it was not because of his ability to suddenly transport onto the roof, or change his teacher's hair to a blue color. It was simply because his will,. He wished to die.

He had embraced these feelings for so long. Ever since he was old enough to conjure a memory, he had been shown the unfair side of the harshness of reality: namely, his uncaring family, his dead parents, his unconcerned teachers, his contemptuous cousin. Everybody was there to hurt him, to make him realize that his being born was a mistake.

His eyes saw through the lenses (blurred lenses, because they were not set in the appropriate power) that there appeared to be a wall between him and 'normal' people. 'Normal' people like Dudley, Petunia and Vernon had real lives, as well as happiness. They could watch television, they could eat whatever they liked, they could smile and laugh and be a family, they could order the 'freak' (like him) around, they had their own jobs—as a manager at Grunnings, or as a spoiled son. They could enjoy their holidays; they deserved presents and love and kisses and hugs. On the other hand, 'freaks' like him deserved nothing. He needed to work to eat, needed to beg for clothes and cry for a bed. His small cupboard under the stairs was the only one place where he felt like he was at home—or maybe, the only place he felt that was suitable to house a 'freak' like him.

He knew that all people eventually died. Wasn't that the case with his drunken parents? They died, passing away to the next gate and leaving him alone. Of course, who would want a 'freak' anyway? Harry knew that it was true; otherwise how could two ordinary adults suddenly decide to go drunk driving? They must have hated the fact that Harry—the 'freak'—was borne of them; their only option left was to save face by killing themselves.

Death had always been a fascinating subject for him. Hell, ever since he could read, Harry preferred to engulf himself in the prospects of death. From the bedtime stories Petunia told Dudley—which Harry, much to his desperation and shame, would eavesdrop in on—at the end of each story, all the bad guys died, and the prince and princess would live happily ever after. Putting himself in the bad guys' role, Harry came to the conclusion that 'normal' people like the prince and princess of the stories, and the "Dursleys'" of the world, deserved to live happily ever after, while 'freaks' like the bad guys, and him, deserved to die. That morbid conclusion made Harry wonder what death felt like.

Alas, even though he wondered about death all the time, his limited knowledge did not allow him to think one step ahead—he was still too innocent to contemplate suicide. Furthermore, his own magic abilities (which he wasn't aware of yet) protected his body from harm, and whenever hurt, he healed himself at such a super fast rate that Harry himself didn't even realize how abnormal his healing ability was. So instead, his mind subconsciously sought ways to end his life—at times, by crossing the road a bit late, or by standing up for himself to the biggest bully in school (headed by yours truly, Duddley Dursley), or by carelessly playing with electric appliances while near a source of water. Yet somehow, he still remained alive until the day he received the weird letter saying he had been accepted to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

That week had been a truly bad one; aside from the usual lack of adequate food, Vernon Dursley had accidentally stepped on his back when Harry was busy waxing the floor, and had snapped two ribs inside his fragile chest. Harry had moaned in pain, and Vernon Dusley—assaulted by mixed feelings, including a sense of surprise, and something  _else_  (which suspiciously felt like arousal from the small moan)—had felt revolted at himself. He had vented his disgust by whipping the small boy: 20 lashes total, using a belt buckle. The wounds closed themselves after 20 hours of agony—and his ribs were already healed and back in their proper places 2 days afterwards; still, the week alone was devastating.

Harry Potter gave the letter to his uncle and watched emotionlessly as his uncle's face became purple. He didn't know what exactly was happening, but a small, happy voice inside his head knew that he would end up hurt badly—and that voice spoke out of glee, for finally, he had gained a real chance to die.

* * *

The hat on top of his head was big, and easily engulfed his whole head. Harry closed his eyes, wondering what would happen. The sudden darkness brought on by the hat was welcome, and he suddenly felt at ease. He felt something probing around in his mind. Would he be able die now?

' _No, I_ _won't_ _even hurt you, Harry Potter. I am only here to assign you_ _to the_ _H_ _ouse you should be in.'_

Harry felt a bit of surprise when he heard the voice speak in his head. A bit of his heart yearned to call back to it. Was that his dad's voice?

' _Sadly, I am not your father, Harry Potter. I am truly sorry.'_

Ah. Harry nodded solemnly. Again, his wishful thinking had disappointed him.

'… _I cannot respond to this. This is the saddest wish I have ever heard of, in my old age. Why do you think death would be welcome and good?'_

The hat was talking to him, Harry realized. So he mumbled his answer, 'Because freaks are not supposed to live, am I correct?'

' _Harry, you are not a freak.'_

'Yes I am. It is easier for me to think that way.'

' _What you truly need now is therapy. Would you like me to arrange a session with the Headmaster?'_

'Will he help me by killing me?'

' _No, he won't.'_

'Then I don't need him. I am fine like this. I just want to sleep and die. Maybe then I can see my parents and apologize to them for giving birth to me,' Harry answered with a soft smile.

' _Alright, fine. But I need to sort you into a House now. … I can only suggest Slytherin. Your ambition to die is remarkable. Yet you have never seriously pursued it. Maybe … you don't really want to die?'_

The comment woke Harry up. Impossible; he had wanted to die ever since he could remember. To watch the nice family act in front of him, to realize that he was nothing but an unwanted pest, a freak; the pain he carried was truly unbearable. He had been living with an accumulated eleven years' worth of mental and physical pain, but now this talking hat was saying that he didn't want to die? Was the hat kidding? Did he think that Harry wanted to live in pain all his life? Hadn't he suffered enough?

' _You don't need to die, my dear boy. You deserve a better life. Not death.'_

Harry clutched his chest. The new robe he was wearing was very new and the starched folds felt weird in his small hand. His chest was throbbing in pain. Why?

' _Maybe… Well maybe this can help._ _ **SLYTHERIN**_ _!'_

The hall was silent. Harry Potter, the poster boy for the light, had been sorted into Slytherin.

* * *

The room was bigger than his entire elementary school. And he occupied such a big room with a mere 6 other boys. Harry was amazed and in awe. But apparently he was the only one who was impressed, as the other boys were vocal about their disappointment regarding sharing a room with one another. Especially the one called Draco Malfoy.

"I need to share a room with all of you? This is outrageous! I will tell my father about this."

Harry ignored the exclamations and went to his side of the room. A bed, larger than one he could ever wish for (and way, way better than his cot at home) was waiting for him. On top of the bed was the trunk he'd purchased when he went to Diagon Alley with Hagrid. Harry looked around and found that he had a big wardrobe, bigger than his whole cupboard under the stairs, and all of it just for his clothes. There was also a nice desk made from heavy wood. Everything was just too good to be true.

His hand twitched badly. Harry stifled his moan. His arm hadn't healed nicely yet. The week before the 1st of September had simply been hell. His right arm was broken in so many places that even past one week, it hadn't healed like it would usually. His body was still stiff and in pain, coupled with the continuous pain in his tummy. Uncle Vernon had bought a whip especially tailored for him, and between the kicks and the punches and the whip, Harry couldn't really recall what had exactly happened.

It was the only thing he knew: pain, pain and pain. After that, blackness. Then pain, pain and more pain.

"Hey Potter." Suddenly a voice called to him, so Harry turned his body and saw that the blonde boy, Malfoy, was standing in front of him. Harry felt even smaller than he already was, and he squirmed and bit his lower lip.

"..Yes?"

"I am Draco Malfoy, and I am pleased to welcome you in Slytherin. You chose the right path, Potter. Just like I was saying in the train. The right connection brings you to the best places."

Harry wasn't sure what to answer to that, so he nodded and muttered thanks. After that, the boy left him alone and others came to him to introduce themselves.

Harry was overwhelmed, and offered his left hand, as his right was in no form to shake others' hands. The other boys simply assumed he was left handed, and offered their left hands to him as well.

* * *

The only thing Harry remembered from the Great Feast was Dumbledore's comment how 'the third corridor is forbidden unless the student wants to die in a most painful way.' Harry perked at the announcement and made a mental note of it; it was the first time that month he became sure that he could die very soon. He would definitely go to the third corridor and die. That was a wonderful thing. Maybe the whole 'being-a-wizard' business wasn't as bad as he had previously thought. For apparently even the headmaster of the school encouraged their students to seek death!

The magic classes started—and he realized that they weren't all that different from the classes at his previous school. Everybody aside from Slytherin thought that he had somehow betrayed them by choosing to be a "snake," so they either ignored him, or settled on being hostile to him. Harry accepted the treatment in stride, because he really hadn't expected anything else. The only difference was that, this time around, the Slytherin House seemed to protect him, which, in his opinion, that goodwill was a bit too wasteful on a 'freak' like him.

He managed to change the match into a needle without using his wand. But when he looked around, nobody had achieved the same thing- and they were all using their wands. So Harry came to the conclusion that doing the transfiguration with a wand was supposed to be harder. He changed the needle back into a match, then tried the trick again, this time using his wand.

During the process, the wand shook sadly in his left hand, and yet Harry easily changed the match back into a silver needle. When he looked around again, nobody had done the same thing, so he changed back the match and stopped doing anything. He definitely didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb; he didn't want to become a target of any bullies for fear that he already was one from being faster than his peers.

"Good job, Ms. Granger. Five points to Gryffindor," the strict teacher called out, and Harry realized that there was somebody else who had also changed their match into a needle. Harry let out a sigh and let himself rest. Good, he wasn't the main freak in the room.

* * *

Charms was another class where Harry felt weird. He stared at his feather and he could see it slowly rising into the air. But when he looked around, everybody was still trying hard to levitate the feather with their wands. Their seriousness made Harry feel weird. Why did they have to put so much effort into simply levitating a light little feather? Was this how the 'normals' of the 'freaks' acted? Did this mean that he was a freak amongst even the 'freaks'?

"Harry, your feather is rising!" A sudden exclamation came from his side, from a boy named Blaise Zabini, and it startled Harry. He quickly put the feather down, using only the movements of his eye. The feather dropped to the desk.

"Oh, maybe I was just imagining things." The boy then turned back to his feather, flicking his own wand to levitate his feather. Harry swallowed hard. He almost got caught. No. He didn't want to get caught. He didn't want to be the freak amongst the 'freaks'.

His chest was in pain. His tummy ache came back. His palms started to sweat. And all he wanted to do was curl on the cot inside the cupboard under the stairs.

He wanted to die so much. So much.

* * *

Blaise Zabini watched as his dorm-mate named Harry Potter walked beside him to the Potions class. He was enthralled by the mystery of the Boy-Who-Lived. Contrary to the expectations of the wizarding world, Harry Potter had been sorted into Slytherin. Furthermore, he was so silent, almost as though he weren't there. Just by looking at the boy, Blaise felt pity, as well as a sense of intense protectiveness over the boy. He was so small. Even by their first-years' standard. Harry Potter was as small as the most petite witch in their House.

And he kept to himself. After two days of being together during classes and in the dorms, all Blaise knew about Harry was that Harry's full name was Harry Potter, he was male, he was tiny, he ate very little and talked even less, he was left handed and he was in constant fear of something.

Oh, and he clutched his chest robes a lot.

Blaise walked in silence, as he observed the other boy more deeply. Right, the boy looked like a small girl. Long untamed black hair; an old pair of glasses rimmed by blackened iron. He was decked in a set of new outer robes, but underneath, Blaise could catch glimpses of ugly oversized trousers and old trainers. Long eyelashes, framing green eyes that were always fixed on the floor. Quite cute, actually.

They entered the dungeon and hurried to one of the desks. Just as they were nicely seated, a billowing big bat came into the room. Upon clearer observation, they realized that it wasn't a bat; he was actually their teacher and the Head of Slytherin House, Professor Serverus Snape.

"I am here to teach you the art of potions. It is a dangerous art, yet it is also very rewarding. It is not something you idiots can learn by simply swishing your wands everywhere. Put them away, and always pay attention, because in here, your life is always at stake."

Blaise put on his usual expressionless mask. The Head of their House was really intimidating.

The professor started calling out names to take attendance. Once he got there, he stopped at Harry's name.

"…Ah, our new celebrity."

Blaise turned to his friend, and looked at Harry. The boy looked unaffected. He was still staring at his desk.

"I will not tolerate cheeky behaviour. Be polite and look up when your name is called!"

Harry glanced up to look directly at the professor. He could feel the contempt and hatred emulating from the black haired man. And he wasn't sure how to react. He was used to this. He knew that most people hated him anyway, so what was one more professor on the list?

"Potter! Where can I find a bezoar?"

Harry blinked. Where? What?

"I see that popularity is not everything. Let's try one more. What is the difference between wolfsbane and monkshood?"

Harry slowly went to his book, opening it, but Snape was faster.

"Who said you could read the book? Are you that useless, Potter? I guess that having a famous name is not everything. You need to learn more, if you want to survive this class."

Harry nodded solemnly and waited.

Irked with the lack of reaction, Snape snapped. "Detention tonight! Come to my office at 8 this evening!"

Harry nodded. But he was still silent. Some of the Gryffindors smirked, as they thought Potter, even being the Boy-Who-Lived, wasn't all  _that_  now that he was sorted into the "snake house."

"Silence, the rest of you!" Snape bellowed. He then continued the roll call and ordered them to do the assigned potions for the day.

Blaise was infuriated with the unfairness of the situation. Even he, having had previous tutelage from his mother, wouldn't have known anything about the wolfsbane thing. He knew about bezoars, of course, but the other questions were set up just to embarrass Harry. And to think that this was coming from their Head of House!

Apparently he wasn't the only one frustrated with the situation. Most of his Slytherin classmates were thinking along the same lines. But being Slytherins, they wouldn't act rashly like the Gryffindors, who would probably have clamoured right then and there for justice. They waited instead to see whether standing up for Potter would bring any advantages for them. So in the end, nobody offered Harry any help and frankly, Harry didn't expect any.

He just wanted to die. Please, the sooner the better. The feelings of humiliation were not as bad as the pain in his chest. He always made people hate him, never the other way around; never did they choose to love him. And it made his chest feel so, so very painful.

* * *

He knocked on the door and was ordered to enter. Professor Snape was behind his desk, marking up some summer homework from his upper classes, and didn't spare him a glance when Harry came in.

"Clean all the pots by the corner of the room. No magic allowed."

Harry let a sigh. Maybe this wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Detention seemed to be akin to his usual chores at home anyway. And so he had been worrying over nothing for the whole dinner.

"Why are you sighing? Are you looking down on me!"

Harry quickly shook his head and directed his gaze towards the floor. It was best to simply let the anger be vented on him. The quicker the anger was vented, the faster he would be left alone to clean the cauldrons. He preferred the silence of menial chores, to a kick to his still painful stomach.

"Look at me, brat!"

And Harry showed his eyes to the professor. The next moment he felt a familiar sensation of probing, not unlike how the hat had treated him. Ah, he was not dying then.

"..What do you mean 'not dying'? Are you an idiot, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, and lowered his eyes. He really wanted to run to the third level corridor now. A painful death never sounded so good.

"Why, you are already thinking of going to the forbidden place? So you think you are above the rules, hmm, Potter? You arrogant, attention seeking brat!"

"…I am sorry, sir. Forgive me."

"So you think that because you are famous, everything will be forgiven just by apologizing? Have you no shame at all?"

"I am sorry, sir."

"Pathetic. Go and do your work!"

So Harry turned around and started cleaning. His right hand and arm were still bothering him. There were black spots on his skin, indicating possible blood blockages in the area. And his right arm was still a bit sore, so Harry used his left hand as much as possible.

He scrubbed and scrubbed. It was a bit harder without his right hand, so he was slower than usual. But after half an hour, he managed to finish all the cleaning.

"I am finished, sir."

"…" Snape was shocked. Barely half an hour had passed since the boy had started cleaning, and now he was finished? What an arrogant liar!

"Let me check, you liar!"

Harry flinched. "I am sorry sir, if I was not fast enough."

Snape raised an eyebrow to that statement, but he checked the pots All 30 cauldrons were cleaned and sparkling, as though as they had been waxed diligently. It was a far cry from their initial state. So apparently, the boy hadn't been lying.

"..You must have used magic."

Harry shook his head. "No sir. I didn't. I followed your orders perfectly.'

"Liar! Show me your hand!"

Harry showed him his left hand, which was wrinkled from prolonged contact with soap and water. Snape sneered and saw that the boy wasn't offering his right hand.

"Your other hand!"

Harry stopped, but he finally showed him. And Snape was truly shocked.

That hand, that small thin arm, was covered in black bruises. The palm looked brownish and filled with so many scars while the fingers… they were in a truly devastating state. Snape suspected that at least his smallest and middle fingers were broken. They were each bent at an impossible angle.

"What on earth happened to your arm, Potter?"

Harry quickly hid his arm, but Snape reached out and caught it, causing Harry to whine from pain. Realizing that the root of the injury was not as important as treating it at the moment, Snape grabbed the boy's shoulder and ushered him onto the sofa.

"Sit," Snape ordered, and he went to his cupboard to take out his pain relief potion. He then gave it to Harry.

"Drink."

The boy drank it wordlessly. And his eyes suddenly opened up wide. His pain was gone!

"Are you still in pain, now?"

Harry shook his head. "No, sir. Thank you sir."

"Good. What I gave you was my pain relief potion, and now I will give you a blood diluting potion. After that we should go to the infirmary."

The potions' names made Harry perk up. He looked up at Snape and whispered.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"…There are so many types of potions, aren't there?"

"Yes of course, Potter. Why?"

"Is there… Is there a potion for instant death?"

Snape raged. "You! You idiotic brat! You think you can poison me with that?"

Harry paled. "N..No, sir! I just want a painless death. It's for me only, sir!"

"For you?" Snape peered down and saw no lie in the boy's green eyes. Lily's eyes were looking at him in hope and desperation.

"Yes sir. Is there? Can I… Can I have it? I can give you all my money, sir! I have much in the Gringotts vault!"

"Potter…"

"Will it not be enough, sir? I have also other things—I have a brand new trunk! Also, my new potions set! Also all my books! And I also have an owl if you want it in exchange!"

"Potter, listen to me."

"Please, please sir! I'll give you everything! Anything! I can give you my body as well! You can use order me to do anything, anything! Just… Just give me…"

And he started to sob. He wanted to die so much, so much. His chest was so painful. Just give him the potion so that he could die, please, please… the recent relief from the pain in his right hand had made the pain in his chest even more unbearable.

"Potter, calm down." Snape started to panic. What was happening? The boy who hadn't given him any reaction from his taunting was suddenly crying desperately, begging him for poison. It was beyond disturbing. An 11 year old, asking for death. It wasn't normal at all.

Harry sobbed and sobbed, completely losing his composure. He was so scared and angry and disappointed and disturbed and confused and in such deep mental pain. Why couldn't he just be normal? Even the people of the wizarding world denied him what he desired most, death. Where could he get his wish?

"Potter, why are you asking for death?"

Harry managed to stop his sobbing, and he looked up. His vision was blurry.

"Because I don't deserve to live, sir."

"Who told you such a thing?"

"Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia. Aunt Marge. Duddley. Mrs. Lee, Mrs. Campbell, Mrs. Carla, everyone. Even my parents are dead only because they never wanted me, sir. I just want to die and in this way say sorry to all of them for being born, sir. I am sorry."

"Potter. Calm down. Think. Listen. Your parents are not dead because they didn't want you. The Dark Lord killed them."

"You don't need to lie to me, sir. Hagrid told me the same thing, but again, I don't need the comfort of lies, sir! I know the truth. My relatives told me the truth. They always are truthful. I don't need sugar coated lies, sir. I understand reality."

"Potter…"

"I tried, sir. I can't. My wounds always closed before I bled to death. The cars never hit me. I always wakes up every morning; Uncle Vernon never succeeded in silencing me. I don't know what's wrong with me, sir. I can't die. I have tried so hard but I always fail. I swear! So please give me the potion sir, please?"

"I cannot reason with you like this, Potter, when your mind is in total chaos. You need to lie down and sleep. Do you understand me, Potter?"

Harry couldn't comprehend him. He was simply disappointed in his professor.

"Don't you hate me as well, sir? Why won't you let me die?"

"Potter?"

"I promise I won't be a hassle once I die, sir. I won't bother you again. I am so sorry for whatever it is, so please give me death."

"Potter, you are getting ridiculous…" Snape was getting embarrassed. Harry's assessment of his motives wasn't that far from the truth.

Harry slumped in his seat. The professor hated him so much that he wouldn't even let him die. Snape wouldn't let him have his wish. What a disappointment. What was he thinking anyway? Asking for death from people who hated him? They wouldn't help him, of course!

With that, Harry clenched his teeth and stood up. Before Snape realized what was happening, Harry had run to the door and bolted through the opening.

Snape cursed, getting up and running after him. But when he saw the empty corridor, he realized it was too late.

* * *

Harry ran through the corridor. It was rather dark, but he didn't care. He wanted to find a place like his cupboard under the stairs. Just a quiet, small place where he could curl up and die. Preferably peacefully. Maybe, once he was holed up, he could start to starve himself to death. He could survive without food for 5 days. Maybe if he didn't eat for a whole two weeks, he would start rotting and eventually die.

He didn't watch where he was going, and so he collided in the next second with another body. Harry stumbled onto the floor; his glasses flew from his face and skittered away from him. Harry's myopic eyes couldn't make out anything.

"Potter?"

From the voice, it had to be a teacher. The voice belonged to a male; an older person. A teacher.

"What are you doing here?"

"I… I was…"

"Are you crying?" the voice asked him. Harry nodded, neither recognizing the speaker nor caring who it was. Whoever the person was, he knew that they would probably not grant his death wish. So he didn't care.

"Where are you going, Potter?"

Harry's head snapped up at the question. Right, where he was going again?

_The third level corridor… painful death…_

"The third level corridor, sir. I want to go there."

Silence followed that answer for a while. Then the professor answered in another voice.

"… _I'll take you there, Harry Potter_."


	2. Chapter 2

Betaed By Blind_Alchemist. Thank you very much, my dear!

Thank you for the comments n kudos.

Enjoy!

 

************************************************************

* * *

Harry trailed after the billowing robes. They were walking in silence, and the professor was walking in front of him, leading him. Yet, although the professor's back was turned, Harry felt some sort of attention directed on him. He was somehow being watched. Maybe the professor had eyes on the back of his head. Harry's blurry vision didn't help him decipher the source; he couldn't see clearly what was happening. And truthfully, he didn't care.

He was finally going to face a painful death.

"This is the third level corridor, Harry Potter," the professor told him. They stood in front of a door. "What would you like to do?"

"…I want to enter it, sir."  _And die. How lovely._

"Alright, then go in."

Harry moved forward. He could see the outline of a door, but he couldn't see it very clearly. His left arm stretched to touch the door, and finally after feeling the wood beneath his fingers, he found the knob. When he tried to turn the knob to open, though, that door wouldn't budge.

"It is locked." Harry felt a bit disappointed. Of course it was locked. When had Harry ever gotten it so easy?

"I can open it for you," the professor answered. " _Alomohora_."

The door was opened. Harry walked through the doorway, and he could hear some strange voices. When he looked around, however, he couldn't see anything; he really needed his glasses.

"I… I can't see anything, sir."

"I don't see anything either, child. The room is empty. Maybe Dumbledore hasn't started planting things yet."

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked in confusion. "Where is… where is the mechanism that will bring me death?"

The professor was silent for a moment. "…Is that what you seek? Death?"

Harry nodded. He rubbed his eyes, and then he realized that he was using his injured right arm. He was oblivious from the pain because of the potion he had drunk. He quickly hid his right arm. But the sight of the blackened, broken arm caught the professor's attention.

"What happened to your arm?"

"Nothing sir, I was… I was… I fell." Harry quickly hid his embarrassment as he lied. He gave the answer that adults always wanted to hear. Everybody would dismiss him as a liar anyway even when they had figured out the truth. So lying wasn't a half bad idea.

"It was not from simply falling, was it? Let me see."

Harry slowly raised his right arm and showed it to the professor. The professor touched the arm and immediately retracted when their bare skins touched, and he was hissing.

"Are you alright, sir?" Harry was surprised to see that the professor seemed like he was in pain after touching him. It was the weirdest thing. The professor bent down, knees touching the ground.

"Professor?"

"Are you trying to kill me, child?"

Harry was shocked. "N..No, professor! No!"

Then Harry felt his mind being probed again. He sighed. Exactly how many people wanted to enter his mind in a single day? Was his mind such an interesting place? He only wanted to die, and he had nothing to hide. Well, actually, he had a lot of things to hide, but basically those didn't concern him because no one would really care about any of those things anyway. He just wanted to die. And he could never get to die. Why was everything so needlessly complicated?

"…I see," the professor suddenly noted. "You don't care about whatever happens to yourself, do you? You want to die, am I correct?"

"Yes!" Harry perked up. Finally, a person he could turn to for help. Maybe this professor could really help him. The professor  _had_  taken him to the third level corridor, so he might be okay with granting Harry his wish for death. Maybe, unlike professor Snape, this professor would help him kill himself.

"Then… before I assist you, I must tell you that I have one condition."

"Yes, sir?" Harry was eager to listen. Anything. Anything to help him die.

"I currently not strong enough to have a body of my own," the professor started. Harry wondered what he meant. Wasn't the professor standing in front of him? He wasn't a ghost, was he? Harry was sure the professor was made of solid. He had bumped into him after all. "…After tonight, this body will no longer sustain me. I need a new body. So give me yours and I will kill you. You die, I get your body. Deal?"

"Yes!" Harry truly smiled, for the first time in his life. His vision became blurry from tears. Finally! "Yes! Yes! Yes! Thank you very much, sir! Thank you!"

He started to sob. It was very exhilarating. He finally had secured a chance to die. Finally, finally a chance to be freed from all the pain- the pain in his chest, from the sadness, the chores, the hostile stares, the hateful glances, the unbearable emotions… it was so wonderful! Finally!

"..Don't be that happy. It makes me unwilling to grant your wish."

Harry stopped sobbing and bit back his smile. He wouldn't want that. He was finally able to die! "I am so sorry, sir. I am just too happy. I am very glad it is going to be over. I really don't want to live anymore."

"What make you so desperate, child?" The tone was heavy with pity.

"If I die, then I can meet my parents. Then I can apologize to them for everything. I killed them."

"Really? Here I thought the Dark Lord killed them."

"Why is everyone telling me that? I am not a kid anymore. I know that reality is harsh, sir. My relatives have made sure that I am aware of the truth. My parents were driving around drunk one night and crashed. They were drunk because they didn't want me. I am a freak. Nobody wants me. I killed them. So if I die, I can apologize to them. Then maybe… maybe they will love me… because… they are dead, and since I would be dead, we'd all be dead together anyway… and they are my parents after all, so they… they would forgive me, right?"

"…Prepare yourself, child."

Harry closed his eyes. This was it. He was going to die. Oh, it was so wonderful… So… wonderful… and then the pain hit him, robbing him of his consciousness.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the ceiling.

Harry Potter blinked. And blinked again. Everything looked so clear. He could see perfectly without his glasses. And it his vision was even clearer than when he had his glasses. He could see every single board and stone in the design of the ceiling. He could see the details and carvings perfectly. He could see everything much clearer, like an eagle.

And that meant he was still alive.

A heavy feeling fell into the pit of his stomach. Well, so much for the good dream. He needed to wake up. He should prepare breakfast. He didn't do it yesterday out of exhaustion and he also wasn't paying attention. But now the professor Snape knew about his condition and surely, wouldn't he want Harry to start working to pay for his school fees? Just like the Dursleys. And that made him wonder. Should he clean and cook at Hogwarts, as well? If yes, where to start? Where was the kitchen anyway?

_Silly child, of course you don't need to cook or clean here. The house elves will do it._

Harry was frozen. That voice. It was the strange professor's voice. Why was it inside his head?

_It's our agreement, child. I will reside in you and you will feed me with your magic. Then when I am strong enough, I will kill you._

Oh. Harry slumped. Will that take a long time? he mentally inquired of the voice.

The voice was silent.

Never mind, then. Harry sighed and opened the curtains. He was back in his dorm, surrounded by soft snores coming from the other 5 beds inside the room. And then he remembered his glasses.

_I have taken care of that. You don't need those hideous glasses anymore._

Oh. Harry wondered why. Maybe the professor wanted a better body? But it was good, in a way; now he didn't need to use the heavy iron glasses anymore, and he could see even clearer than he ever had before. He then slowly walked to the bathroom, looking around.

_What are you looking around for?_

What time was it?

_Let me tell you the spell. Tempus!_

Harry repeated it softly and a suspended hourglass appeared in front of him. He couldn't decipher anything from the hourglass, but apparently the professor could.

_It's half past six._

Thank you, Harry spoke to the voice in his mind, and smiled. He had woken up late today, it seemed. The hourglass disappeared and Harry proceeded to the toilet to wash his face.

_Late? It's only half past six!_

Harry didn't answer as he recalled his usual internal timetable—wake up at four, clean up the kitchen, prepare breakfast, and then fetch the newspaper. Then he would prepare for school, waiting as the whole Dursley family ate their breakfasts—sometimes he got lucky and he was given scraps; a bit of toast or a bit of sausage, when his aunt was feeling unusually generous good, but usually he simply stood there making sure the family had everything they wanted—and then, finally, he would go to school. Remembering those steps made it easier for the professor to now see the records of what he usually did.

His chest had started hurting again. Harry rubbed his eyes. His body felt so stiff.

Then he realized with a start that his right hand wasn't black-looking or injured anymore. It looked healthy and normal. How did this happen? Usually the injuries would remain for at least another half a day.

_I healed it. I don't want my host body to have the quality of garbage._

Oh. Harry nodded. He knew the voice was speaking the truth. His body was not fit at all; it was too small, scrawny, and full of scars and bruises. The professor must be regretting the fact he was inside Harry now. But he still thanked the professor.

_You don't need to thank me; I am doing this for my own benefit, after all._

Yes, sir, Harry whispered into his mind, and went to his side of the room. The bed had already been made, and it looked pristine and very inviting. Harry was shocked. When had he cleaned the bed?

_The elf made it. Don't worry about it._

Harry wanted to know who the elf was, so that he could thank him. But he didn't know where to go. So he climbed into his bed again, and started to read his books.

The books were fascinating. Harry felt like he was reading story books rather than textbooks. Every book that was assigned to him was all about magic. It felt a bit surreal to Harry. But he loved reading. Reading was the only time when he could pretend that he wasn't Harry Potter, the freak amongst 'freaks'. He was just an observer. He was nothing. He had nothing to hide, and all he had to do was wait until everything unravelled. Little did he know that his way of learning adapted him more to the core of the subject, without actually forcing himself to remember each lesson, word for word. He understood the essence of what was being taught, and it was all that mattered, right?

* * *

Blaise shook him, interrupting his reading.

"Potter, it is time to go down for breakfast. Professor Snape ordered us not to be late, remember?"

Harry nodded and thanked the boy. He quickly changed and followed Blaise down to the common room. The first year girls were already there and they move together as a group for the first morning. Harry felt some people's eyes on him. But he was used to it, and it bothered him less than on the first day of being in.

By the time he'd sat at the Slytherin table, a professor suddenly materialized behind him.

"Potter, follow me."

Harry looked up and saw it was Professor Snape who was hovering on him. He quickly nodded and stood up, leaving the table with the professor. His house mates looked at him in blatant interest. Harry couldn't care less for them. His only concern now was regarding that of Professor Snape. Would he give Harry another detention?

They walked and walked, and finally they stopped in front of a white door. Harry entered the room and saw that it was the school infirmary. A lady in a nightingale-style nursing dress was there, waiting for them.

"Please give him the usual."

Harry looked up. What was the 'usual'? Did that mean something like a potion? Maybe he would get his wish after all. He was ordered to sit on the bed and undo his robe. When the professor and the nurse lady saw Duddley's old hand-me-down shirt, they frowned. The lady then used her wand on to X-ray Harry. Harry felt the wand scanning his body, and it felt a bit ticklish.

A scroll magically appeared out of thin air. Both his professor and the lady started to read the scroll. It was quite long, and Harry waited patiently, watching as their faces slowly turned dark. Unlike his uncle Vernon, who turned purple, they turned red. And They were obviously either alarmed, or angry.

"Serverus! This! I can't even…!"

His professor grimaced. Harry knew that he was done for. He had somehow made another mistake again. Well, maybe they would kill him this time. But of course, he should apologize first.

"I am sorry, sir, madam," he apologized softly. "I am so sorry."

"What are you sorry for, Potter?" his professor asked, in a weird tone. As though he were truly concerned.

"I am so sorry for whatever the scroll is saying. I am not sure what it reads, but everything is always my fault anyway. I can do something about it. Just tell me what to do. I will do it."

"Potter, this is not your fault." The lady smiled gently, and she placed a comforting gentle hand on his shoulder. Harry flinched a bit. It was quite scary. He'd never liked people touching him. The touches always ended up in pain.

"You will stay here, Potter, until Madam Pomfrey sees you are fit to attend the classes again. I will send some books for you to read, but you need to rest now. She will give you some potions, and it will be a bit painful going down, as we need to regrow your ribs and the bones in your feet and hands…" Professor Snape trailed off as he realized that Harry's hand was already healed. "What happened to your hand, Potter?"

"…I healed it, sir."

" _You_  healed it?"

"I mean…" Harry was on the verge of telling him about the other professor inside his head, but the voice immediately shut him up.

_Don't tell him about me._

Harry nodded. Snape looked even more suspicious. "I… I always heal the injuries by myself, sir. I'd expected the hand injuries to heal by now, and the pain will go away soon, sir. I am fine."

"Potter." Snape bowed down so that their eyes were on the same level. "Don't lie to me. Look at me."

Harry felt another probing occurring within his mind. He quickly shut the probing sensation out. He had the feeling that if he let the professor in, then the other professor inside him would surely be discovered. And he didn't want that. Because he wanted the professor inside him to survive so that he could kill him in the end.

Snape was shocked. His Legilimency had been deflected by an 11 year old. Yesterday he could enter Harry's mind with no problem. Why couldn't he do it now?

"Potter, do you know Occlumency?"

Harry shook his head. He didn't know anything. The term meant little to him. Nothing.

Snape sighed. "Fine. But you will need to the rest. Pomfrey, I'll leave him with you."

The lady nodded and Harry felt like he was going to be in for some immense pain.

* * *

It was pain, pain, pain all over again. But it was all exploding inside him; nothing was visible on the outside. Madam Pomfrey did tell him that re-growing the bones was going to be terrible, and that she couldn't administer the pain relief potion because it would counteract with the bone-healing potion. Harry was no stranger to pain, but this definitely took the crown. He started to sob.  _Please make it stop. Please_. He was so helpless. Why was it that everyone wanted to harm him, yet stop short of killing him? Why?

_Hang in there, child. I can numb your nerves so that you won't feel pain._

And truthfully, it did work. Suddenly the pain was gone and he slumped, relieved, onto the mattress. It was softer than his cot at home, but not as soft as his bed down in the Slytherin dorm. His body felt light, as though he didn't have one. Without the pain, he felt like he could actually fly.

Thank you, Harry whispered. Thank you. It is so much better now. Thank you very much.

_My pleasure._

Nobody had ever done this for to him. Nobody had ever lessened the pain; they had only inflicted it. It was a novel experience for Harry. He could even see clearer now, without his glasses, and all because of the professor. He was so grateful. But then again, he still didn't even know the professor's name. So he asked for it directly.

_Knowing my true name is not to be one of your concerns. But for the time being, you can call me Marvolo._

Oh. Harry nodded. At the same time, Madam Pomfrey came back with another vial and some water. She asked Harry to finish the water and then drink another vial of potion. Immediately after drinking the potion, Harry fell back onto the mattress and went into a deep slumber.

* * *

_Pity_  was definitely an emotion he would never associate with himself. He, the Lord Voldemort, was the Dark Lord. He feared nothing, sympathized with no one. He was the most powerful wizard in the wizarding world, aside from Dumbledore. He was had been at the height of his success when he'd heard about the prophecy, and at the time, it seemed to be just a small, minor problem. He'd gone to the targeted house in order to kill the prophesized child. But upon meeting the child, he'd been was reduced to a mere soul being after being defeated. After that, he had felt nothing but shame and weakness.

He was forced to run far away, for he knew that in his weakened state he would be much more vulnerable to death. And somehow the strength of his soul had been depleted yet again—he had a huge suspicion that he had made the child into another Horcrux. But now wasn't the time to contemplate his wrongdoings; he needed to find a way to return to his former glory, and fast.

So he'd first possessed a random, lowly animal in order to live. And then, unexpectedly, some form of luck arrived. He'd met Quirell in a secluded forest and was able to quickly possess the man by seducing him into thinking that, as Voldemort, he would be able to grant Quirell enormous, unprecedented prestige as soon as when he'd won the war. Of course, Voldemort was nothing short of a the first class seducer; he knew the every nook and cranny of a person's wishful heart, and how exactly to exploit them. In fact, he loved doing this. Each and every time, he'd simply use the possessed person by giving them empty promises to fulfil their wish, and then immediately throw them away afterwards.

He'd heard the news that the Philosopher's Stone was in Gringotts. He'd gone there to steal it but had ultimately been rewarded with nothing. After all the careful, masterminded planning, he had been outsmarted once again by Dumbledore. But then he saw the child of the prophecy and for the first time, felt ashamed of himself to have been defeated by such a small boy.

So he had gone to Hogwarts, and when he'd heard the announcement by Dumbledore, he knew for sure the stone had to be inside the third corridor. The extent of his surprise had only been matched by that of the shocked of Harry Potter, after being sorted into Slytherin. Interesting. Everyone would have thought that Harry Potter would end up being the Golden Boy of Gryffindor. But well, he couldn't be bothered with such trivial matters. All he needed now was the Stone. He had been planning to get it straight away, but in the process, had been interrupted by a bump into a child. And it was just his luck that that child happened to be the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter.

He thought the boy would be an arrogant, pompous, weak boy in person. He had expected him to appear fat and stupid and overly confident of himself. The entire wizarding world was always more than ready to pamper their perceived saviour. But when he saw with his own eyes the reality before him, he was truly shocked. Disappointed, even.

The boy was, in short, nothing. He was a scrawny, silent child. His ugly gasses even made the boy look even more like an idiot. Quirrell had not yet had a class with him, so he had been looking forward to it. But fate must have noted that they needed to meet again sooner. And the boy had shocked him when he had said that he'd wanted to go to the third level corridor. That fast…? Maybe the Sorting Hat had sorted the boy wrongly. He should definitely have been sorted into Gryffindor, due to his obvious blatant stupidity.

When he'd seen that nothing was actually in the room, he was disappointed. Maybe the traps weren't there yet. Or maybe it was all just a trick by Dumbledore. He was ready to blow up when he realized that he was stuck in there with the brat. And he was surprised to see that the boy was disappointed as well. Further discussion revealed what the brat truly wanted.

To die.

Oh, the irony. Voldemort was ready to kill him there and then. It was just too easy; the boy had even offered it. And then he saw the boy's hand. The twisted and blackened hand. He knew what had caused it, from personal experience. He had suffered from those kinds of wounds as well when he was still living in the orphanage. Bruises from hard kicks and punches.

When he touched the boy, Quirell moaned from pain. While he cursed the useless, frail body he was in, his mind wandered. What was this? Interesting. The boy had some kind of protection from harm. Maybe he wasn't as weak as Voldemort had thought him to be. And then he asked the boy what he wished for. The boy had eagerly answered again.

Death.

It was a bit weird to hear such a reply, even for a Dark Lord like him, but well, as a master of seduction, of course he had offered the boy the chance for death and, in exchange, he would stay inside the child's body, sucking his power out. It had to be the best deal he'd ever made, and he had jumped right in. He didn't care about his current host's, Quirell's, fate; upon his exiting, the stupid man had then immediately shrivelled to blackened bits and ashes.

He started to look around in the boy's mind. He found a strong natural aptitude for Occlumency, and the irony was that the boy's Occlumency-strengthened mental walls were forged from the boy's absolute and steadfast wish to die. It seemed that because of his strong wish, Harry Potter could withstand anything and everything. And further probing in the boy's mind revealed to him that the boy's magical core was immense; almost as powerful as that of seventh year, despite Harry Potter's being only a first year.

Not only willing, but powerful as well. This had to be the cherry on top of the cake.

With these resources at his disposal, Dumbledore was done for. The Headmaster wouldn't be able to guess that his Golden Boy was being possessed by the Lord Voldemort himself. It was very, very sweet. Voldemort laughed so hard to himself while the boy slept.

And then, because he was bored, and perhaps felt like he deserved a respite of sorts, Voldemort had probed deeper into Harry's mind, just for the fun of it. Well, he was actually intrigued by what he found. The boy's wish to die was so strong. And so was his reasoning behind it…

Pity was the first emotion he felt. Unbelievable rage came next. He couldn't believe what the Muggles had done to Harry Potter. And then he realized that Dumbledore was the proverbial man behind the curtain. He was the one who'd let the boy be raised by the worst types of Muggles possible. It was all Dumbledore's game. And then he realized, with a start, that a piece of his soul resided inside Harry Potter's scar.

When he realized what was actually happening, he came to one conclusion: Dumbledore was preparing Harry for death, as he was one of Voldemort's Horcruxes. He had put Harry in a harsh environment childhood, so that Harry would be grateful for the comparative kindness from the residents of the the wizarding world, and would be no doubt willing to sacrifice himself to protect that world. And it was just so cruel and manipulative. Voldemort couldn't believe how heartless and Slytherin-like Dumbledore actually was.

When the boy had woken up and realized he wasn't dead, the disappointment was very painfully acute and honest. It had crushed Voldemort's mind, as he shared a bit of that connection with Harry. It seemed that even so, Harry no longer cared about anything, since he was used to disappointment. It had also made Voldemort want to convince Harry of the reverse. He wouldn't disappoint the child again. Harry's childhood had been even worse than Voldemort's; at least the Dark Lord had been taunted by stupid Muggles that were not related to him. The boy had been tortured by his own blood relatives. It was absolutely no wonder that Harry Potter didn't have any self-esteem at all. And that all he wanted to do was die. Voldemort would make sure that the boy was, at least,  _happy_  before he died at Voldemort's hands.

This, again, was ironic because the child's power was so immense that he couldn't kill himself. The power of healing Harry possessed was very powerful, all Voldemort had to do was just focus the power on the hand. Within half an hour, the hand returned into its normal state. With the eyes, it took longer, but he finished correcting Harry's vision in 4 hours. Apparently the injured hands weren't healed yet when he had first come upon Harry, because Harry's magic had been healing his injured kidney (and other suspiciously healed internal organs) first.

And then, another thought slipped into the Dark Lord's mind. If there was a piece of him already existing inside the boy while he himself was also currently inside, there should be at least two parts of his own soul leeching the magic out of Harry's core. And yet, the child was still so powerful. It was impossible.

So many mysteries surrounded the boy.

The Dark Lord had a new toy.

* * *

Comment please?


	3. Chapter 3

  


For my atrocious grammar, I want to apologize. I promise to get a beta.  


Aside from that, please remember Harry is only 11 years old. after this, he will be harder and colder, I want to show the process as rational as possible.

Enjoy!

* * *

The months passed slowly. The first week was filled with nutrition potions and sleep. Harry was held in the infirmary for five more days. Blaise came sometimes, and Harry was grateful for it. The boy even took notes for him. He has no other visitor, though. But the most helpful one is Marvolo. The professor taught him a lot, from spell to history to theory; while they have nothing to do on the infirmary mattress.

And it was truly a new experience for Harry to be able to have …someone with him all the time. He was used to loneliness and knew that he didn't deserve a company that wouldn't hurt him. Marvolo, simply being there and talked to him nicely instead of bullying him was a very novel thing. Having Marvolo made him very grateful to the point that the boy actually smiles and cries and promised Marvolo he will do anything the professor wants.

The weeks afterwards weren't noticeable, it was nothing unusual. Harry missed the flying classes because of his condition and such, he wasn't able to enjoy the activity like his classmates. The other classes were not a challenge, and Mavolo was surprised when he realized Harry could do all the charms and transfiguration without wands. But he acknowledged Harry's simple wish of not to flaunt his ability, as he didn't want to be a single freak amongst 'freaks'. No matter what Marvolo said, Harry always insists of hiding behind the veil of normalness—or at least what Harry considered as  _normal_. However, Marvolo did help him in potion and their (Harry and Blaise's) potions always turned out perfect.

Another thing was the missing DADA professor. Professor Quirell was never found; even though his stuffs were still inside his rooms. In the end, the DADA class was taught by Dumbledore for the moment, as it was hard to find a substitute. Harry didn't quite enjoy it because Marvolo seemed to be always angry every time he saw Dumbledore. And Dumbledore's obvious preference to him was hurting Harry more than helping. Because of the preference, Harry has another reason to be bullied by the other students.

Classes aside, Harry was having a hard time as usual. School were never a good place for him; because now he is bullied mostly by the Gryfindor boys, under the power of Ronald Weasley. Every time Harry walked into the Gryfindor first years; they always called him names and sometimes smacked him, or stealing his books. Harry endured it in silence; as he didn't want to attract more trouble. He didn't bother with the books; he could borrow from the library and he has already read it all anyway. And it wasn't painful; they are just first years so they don't know how to inflict pain. Furthermore, since Marvolo has always been there, Harry's chest pain was greatly reduced as the professor always soothed him after being bullied.

Other students from upper years and other houses were a bit different to him. Some called him names, or even hexed him in corridor, calling him snakes traitor. Other simply ignored him, either pretend he wasn't there or refusing to sit around him in the library. His Slytherin house was divided into two: those who ignored him, and those who were civil to him. They ignored him because of his obvious lack of money—those clothes Harry got from Duddley were ugly and too big. Also, Harry's stuff was all normal and considered as cheap in Slytherin. Blaise was the best amongst all, as the boy was the only one who insists to have Harry together in all their classes. But Blaise have other sets of friend; and he wasn't able to be with Harry 24 hours a day.

Snape was another matter altogether. He tried to talk to Harry again, but this time Harry simply refused to see him eye to eye. When asked who hurt him, Harry simply said it was an accident. Snape then asked why he wanted to die; Harry actually blushed from embarrassment and curled up, trying to give a message that it was nothing. It repeated every single time Snape tried to talk to him. Snape sighed, because he couldn't put too much attention on a single student like this, he has the entire Slytherin house to care for.

Harry didn't care. Being with Marvolo already made him so happy. It was the happiest he ever been in years; or maybe never. He didn't open up his memory to Marvolo; the professor in his head can do it for himself. And every time Harry did a good job, Marvolo praised him. It always made Harry's eager-to-please nature so happy that he would smile the entire day and endured the bullies with smiles. Because of that, his assignments marks were improved; but practical wise Harry still pretended that he couldn't do it. He even let Blaise 'helped' him sometimes. Blaise looked so happy whenever he could teach Harry anything that he didn't notice how Harry wasn't actually listening to him.

* * *

One thing Harry noticed was the morning owl post. As the birds land on the table every morning, Harry couldn't help but feeling a bit jealous. Other students at least have someone to write to and have letter from. He, on the other hand, has nobody.

One day Hedwig (his owl, white, very pretty) came down onto the table. Harry's hope was up; but then he realized that Hedwig just wanted to visit him. Harry patted the bird and let her ate his beacons; drinking his pumpkin juice. He was used to disappointment; and he usually didn't let it up on his face. But maybe Blaise noticed the subtle emotion, because the next day, a letter came for him brought by Hedwig.

Harry was ecstatic. Someone actually write a letter for him! He opened the letter carefully and it was from Blaise. Harry looked up to see Blaise smiling gently to him, as if urging him to read what was written.

A package of shrunk chocolate frog fell from the letter. It was written:  _For Harry, you need more sweets. You are too skinny. From Blaise._

Harry almost cried from happiness, and he carefully tucked the shrunk chocolate frog and the letter into his robe pocket. He then smiled, very sincerely and thanked the boy. He didn't offer or eat the chocolate because it is the first time he got a gift from a friend, excluding Hedwig which was his first birthday present. He would keep the chocolate and the letter in his new trunk, so that he could always take it out to remind himself again.

Harry didn't know that his smile was very captivating. Students around them noticed Harry's smile and involuntarily blushed. The iron glasses he had in the Great Feast made people think he looked downright plain and ugly. After Harry lost his iron glasses, people started to notice his clear emerald eyes; but they still considered Harry as 'normal' or 'passable'. However after seeing Harry's innocent smile, they melted.

The next day two owls aside from his Hedwig actually give him letter and some chocolates. Harry was amazed by it, and started to open it one by one. He got three owls in total. Blaise gave him one; while the other two was without letter. But he got three chocolate frogs. He smiled to Blaise again and shared the chocolate with the boy. Harry was a bit proud since he could share something with his best friend, especially after all Blaise did for him. He offered one to Marvolo too, but the professor declined it saying that he didn't need food.

Harry's good mood about the owls evaporated when the three days after that, he got blisters from curses inside the one anonymous letter he got. He whimpered slightly when the sting curse hit him and the bottubeer pus leaked out from the letter, causing his hands to have painful boils. The boils popped and greenish slime came out of it. People around him was shocked and disgusted, but nobody except for Blaise, cared. Some even laughed. Within minutes, it became the hottest gossip on breakfast table. Having a cursed letter was not uncommon; but the recipient being the Boy-Who-Lived makes the laugh blew out of proportion. Harry, who used to think that finally people won't notice him that much, felt the embarrassment and hurt when he saw everybody was laughing at him. Professor Snape tried to save him by reducing points from people who laughed, even though some of them are Slytherins. In the end, Harry was sent to infirmary and excused from the first period of class. Blaise offered to accompany him; but Harry declined the offer, and he cried a bit when he was walking alone to the infirmary.

He was so stupid. He should have expected that. Nobody would actually like him to give him letters and chocolates. Maybe Blaise was also pretending too, and if Harry buggered him too much, then Blaise will angry and left him. Marvolo tried to soothe the boy; but somehow that morning, Harry was unable to hear anything the professor said. His occlumency barrier was so strong, fuelled by another disappointment from betrayal of trust. His chest started to throbbed again, and the pain was back.

He hated the pain.

He had enough of it.

* * *

After he was treated by Madam Pomfrey, Harry walked slowly to the glass houses. He has herbiology next.

_Harry! Harry!_

Finally realized that Marvolo has been calling for him, Harry answered. "Marvolo? Why are you calling me?"

_You have been ignoring me for hours now!_

Harry didn't realize it. He was busy building back his caution and burying the fake happiness he had for the last few days. He was burying everything again, behind the occlumency wall.

… _Are you ok, child?_

Harry nodded slowly, apologizing for ignoring Marvolo. His chest was tight and in pain. He has something to ask from Marvolo. "…Marvolo, may I ask something?"

_What, child?_

"Why did they do this? Why do they send me chocolates and then send me curses? Why do they laugh at me? Why do they talk about me? What is wrong with me?"

_Nothing is wrong, child. They are the fools. You are a sweet boy._

"..I don't understand. You keep saying that I am a sweet boy, but sweet boy are not treated like this normally, right? Why would anyone hate a sweet boy? I definitely not one. What is my problem? Please don't sugar coat the truth."

_Harry, I will never lie to you._

"…then when will I die? Have you finished refuelling your power? I don't want to live here anymore, Marvolo. I want to meet my parent."

_Child, I… I am almost done. Please hang in there. Don't care about those stupid fools. You are doing great._

"I want… want a hug, Marvolo. I can't do this anymore. Why can't I die and let it go over with?"

_Child…._

Suddenly Harry bumped into someone. Harry looked up and saw a boy with red hair, similar to those of Ronald Weasley's. The boy has a prefect badge.

"Are you ok?... Potter, why are you crying?"

Harry wiped his face and realized he was actually crying. He quickly wiped his face with his robes, wiping the tears dry.

"What happen? Is your hand still hurting?" The prefect squatted down so that they have the same eye line. He knew about the letter accident of course, with everybody in the Great hall regarded it as the amusement of the day. Harry bit his lips and let his misty eyes stared through the bigger boy's brown eyes. Harry asked himself, is the prefect being sincere or not, was it just another prank, should he tell him anything?

_Child, tell him what you want._

What? Harry asked himself. What does Harry want?

_You want a hug, right? I cannot give you since I am sharing your body. But he can do it for you._

Harry blinked. "…My hand is not hurt, thank you."

"I am glad it's fine already. Do you want me to bring you back to the infirmary?"

"…I… I have herbiology." Harry stuttered. "I am fine, just…"

"Yes?"

_Ask, child. And you will be given._

"Can I … can I have a hug?" Harry bit his lips. His body immediately stiffened, waiting for any bad remarks, rejection or slapped he usually got from the Dursley. He really doesn't want to ask, but Marvolo tells him to so he did it.

He was suddenly embraced in an awkward hug, but it was a hug nonetheless.

And the dam burst out. Harry started to sob. Louder and louder. He clung to older boy like he was so desperate and cried his heart out. He was hugged for the first time, and it was with a stranger. Because no one in his family love him enough to hug him. He needs to beg for a hug. And a stranger gave him. A 'normal' gave him, the freak among 'freaks', a hug.

"Ssh, Po..Harry, its fine, sssh,.."

Unfortunately, the voice made him sobbed even louder. He cried again. Trying to hard to stop, yet he simply  _couldn't_.

"What happened here?" suddenly a voice belonged to Professor Snape came from his back. The older boy looked up, and answered, "Harry is not feeling well, sir."

"Potter?" Snape squatted down and looked at the sobbing boy. "What happened?"

"He wouldn't stop crying, sir." The boy reported, and Harry shook his head. He can! He can stop! He will stop!

And suddenly his body was scooped up by the Slytherin professor. Harry fell into Snape's arms, and the boy sobbed back onto the Professor's shoulder. He tried to bit his lower lips and stopping himself as Snape carried him to the dungeon.

He can stop. He will stop!

"Harry… sshhh…" The soothing voice of his head of the house filled his ears. He shook his head, and wished he could die.

"Harry, Harry what happen?"

"Sir… I … Wa..want… Why cant I… I want to… die. Sir."

"Harry… stop wishing death. You are still a kid. You don't know what you are asking."

"But… death will be.. less painful… than this, sir."

"Harry…"

"I want to see my parents, I want a.. father and a mother, sir... I don't want to live here anymore. What is my fault, sir? Why did they left? Why am I a freak?"

_Child, you are not a freak. You are a great boy._

On the same time, Snape answered, "You are not a freak, Harry. It's not your fault they died."

Harry stopped breathing and felt his nose blocked by slime, so he started using his mouth to breathe. They finally reached the dungeon's door and Snape slid in, with Harry in his arms. He put Harry down on the sofa and went to the cabinet.

"I'll give you a calming potion. You can rest today."

Harry didn't answer, since he doesn't know what to say anymore. It is useless. Telling adults what he felt was useless. Nobody understands why he needs to die so much. Everybody always say the reverse. The thing is; he didn't want to live like this. If death is better, why not?

"Harry… do you want to talk about this?" Snape took a seat in front of him. Harry refused to answer and drunk the potion.

Snape sighed. The boy always refused to answer. And now he already burst twice in two month of the start of the school year. He knew the boy wouldn't last longer and eventually, Harry Potter will be broken beyond repair. He stared at the sad little thing in front of him. Harry's face was wet but emotionless. His robes were wet from tears and sweat. Yet the boy looked so old, older than his year. So frail, so thin.

So pitiful.

It was so out of character for him to act like this, but he is the head of the house. Moreover, it was Lily's boy who is asking for death in front of him. What kind of pain did the child have to have such mentality? Was it even worst than his childhood?

"Does your relative hit you?"

The boy flinched but didn't answer. Snape tried again.

"Harry, do you understand my question? It is not normal for a growing boy like you to be this skinny. Do they even feed you?"

Harry curled into a ball, closing his ears with both hands and knees tightly on his chest. He didn't hear anything, he wouldn't say anything…

Snape frowned. He then went to the cabinet and gave Harry a dreamless sleeping potion. Harry drank it as quick as he could; knowing what potion it was from being give it so many times in the infirmary and then surrendered to the darkness.

* * *

_Child…_

Harry opened his eyes. He was back to the infirmary, it seemed. Everything seemed white and sterile.

_After a lot of consideration, I know a faster way to regain my body._

Harry felt frozen. Regain..? Does that mean Marvolo is going to leave him?

_No, idiot child. I will stay with you, but it is easier to act when we have separate body. I am strong enough to cast normal spell now, but I don't have physical body to grab my wand with._

Can't Marvolo do the wandless spells? Or maybe, he can even use Harry's body. Harry didn't mind at all.

_It is plausible, but it won't be really stable. Your core and my core are different, even though they are similar. I will get burned if I used yours directly as a source of spell magic._

Harry nodded, showing that he understood. Well, he couldn't ask anything, could he? Marvolo said he wanted to leave, so be it. Then he asked the professor of how he is planning to do it.

_Remember the third level corridor?_

There was nothing there, Harry thought.

_No there wasn't, but I think there would be something there right now. The Philosopher Stone._

The… what? Harry asked again. He hasn't heard anything about it.

_Nicholas Flamel._

Harry knows that name. He saw it in the chocolate frog card given to him anonymously last time. That reminded Harry of the owl incident.

_It can produce elixir of life—if I can get it, I can make my own body. Also, on the mean time, I want to go to the Forbidden Forrest._

What for? Harry asked. The forbidden forest is forbidden for a reason, right? Oh, then he realized that maybe the dangerous things lurking behind the trees can give him death.

_Foolish child! I won't let you go inside the Forbidden Forrest with that kind of mentality!_

Harry stopped thinking. He realized one funny thing. Does Marvolo not want him to die? After all he said about killing Harry? Why? The voice inside his head stammered before answered.

_I.. I am just worried I will lose my temporary vessel—you. So just listen to me closely and I want you to be cautious._

Harry nodded just when Madam Pomfrey entered the room. Harry smiled politely at her and thanked her for her care. The lady looked like she wanted to cry again, and Harry found himself engulfed in a hug.

Somehow, this time, the hug has lost its meaning. Harry didn't feel the need to sob, to cry, it was just some heat and pressure from the matron. His chest was hollow; no more pain. Harry didn't realize that a part of him has died that day.

* * *

When he saw the door in third level corridor, Harry swished his wand and the door was unlocked. He opened the door, slowly and cautiously. What he saw was beyond imagination. There was a three headed dog in the size of a house, chained to a pole. It looked menacing and each of the three heads also stared at him.

Harry grimaced and closed the door back. What was that? It wasn't there last time?

_I think it is a Cerberus. But it has engorgio charm in it, making it bigger than it actually is._

Can't we make it smaller, then? Harry asked, watching as the door locked itself automatically.

_We can, but it will still be ferocious. Maybe we need to get her to come with us…_

Her? Harry's mind was searching for someone. Who is she?

_You will find out later. The Cerberus is guarding something. Did you see the panel door on the floor? Well, we can only do so much today. And this weekend is Halloween. We will do something then. Now, get us back to library. I will tell you some spells that might be useful for defence._

Harry nodded and walked away from the corridor.

He didn't know that Snape was watching him from the shadow.

* * *

Next: Forbidden Forrest, new DADA teacher, and philsopher stone.

Review please? I really like them.


	4. Chapter 4

  


This is a bit squashy with blood, so maybe you dont want to eat while reading.

Enjoy!

* * *

When Harry returned to the class the day after, he was relieved to find that the daily gossip has moved away from him. The first Quidditch match of the year was going to be held the next day. It was Slytherin vs Gryffindor, and people were excited about it.

Harry himself wasn't really interested in the game; for him it looked exhausting. He loves to watch other fly, though. He missed the first year flying lesson, so he didn't know what it feels to fly. Maybe one day he would be able to own a cheap broom for himself to fly with. Maybe he could even carve his name onto the broom,  _Harry_.

He was dragged by Blaise to the arena, and he sat beside Blaise. Harry has no difficulties following the game with his agile eyes. He was told by Blaise that the game will be finished when snitch, a golden flying ball, was caught. Harry looked around the arena and spotted the golden ball straight away, hiding behind the Slytherin's flag pole. He pointed the ball to Blaise, which in turned, looked to the direction and gasped. They didn't know that the Gryffindor seeker who was randomly flying near them heard what Harry said. He didn't take any chance and went straight for the gold ball.

Slytherin was winning 50-10 when suddenly the Gryffindor seeker caught the snitch, bringing win to the lion house. People were shocked, because Gryffindor seeker was famous for his incompetence. Gryffindor, on the other hand, was enjoying the feeling because it was the first time in years they had win over cunning Slytherin.

Marcus Flint, the Slytherin's captain, was beyond pissed. He walked over to Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor's captain; ready to congratulate his rival while simultaneously preparing to curse the hell out of Wood. When they shook hand, Marcus smirked and silently hexed the lion captain so that Wood was blasted to his back for five meter or so. The unsuspecting boy flew back and landed on his head, fell into unconsciousness.

For a moment, there was only silent.

Then chaos erupted. Gryffindor shouted foul, while Slytherins smirked because they have no proof at all. They were ready to fight, one house shouting to the other. Ravenclaw and Huflepuff watched from the sideline, as usual. The usual fight was always as amusing as the Quidditch match itself. The fighting houses shouted foul to each other. Gryffindor shouting foul because Flint hexed their captain, while Slytherin shouted foul because the incompetent Gryffindor seeker definitely cheated.

The fifth year Gryffindor seeker sneered at his enemies, laughing hard when he heard the accusation.

"I win because Potter's help! Thanks, kiddo!"

Most of Slytherin house members froze. Harry paled. What did he do now? Blaise paled too, but he grabbed Harry's hand tightly and defended the boy.

"No, he didn't help you at all!"

"He did." The seeker smirked. "He pointed out where the snitch was, and I just catch it."

He regretted when he finished saying, because based on the rules of the game, catching snitch with the help of audience was considered as foul. Madame Hooch heard whet he said, and declared that the snitch was a foul. So the match ended up in 50-10, and Slytherin house won instead.

The snake house cheered for their victory, and for the first time since he entered school, Harry was hailed as an honourable member of their house. His small body was tossed around the students and they went back to the school compound. Behind them, Gryffindor were busy defending and persuading Madame Hooch about their winning. But the lady was firm to her decision and left the lion house to suffer their defeat in bitterness.

And most of the Gryffindor lower year students watched Harry Potter with fierce hatred.

* * *

The next morning, Harry and Blaise walked to the great hall in great pleasure. The two of them woke up early and decided to leave to Great Hall together. Their dorm mates were still sleeping after last night. Last night his house were cheering and enjoying their winning; everybody was so happy that no one remembered his accident and they talked to him instead. They even cheered for Harry, and the boy felt accepted by the house for the first time. Blaise was smiling to him, congratulating him for being so agile in searching snitch. Marcus Flint even came to him and personally asked Harry whether he could fly. Harry answered honestly, he didn't know because he never had his flying lesson.

In the end, the Slytherin's captain promised Harry a session of flying, maybe after Halloween, to determine whether Harry can be their new seeker. Harry flushed in happiness and embarrassment, because it was just so novel for him to be praised and given expectation. His flushed face and excitement made Harry looked so adorable. People started to notice him and Blaise felt a bit overprotective as he defended his seat beside Harry thought-out the party. Marvollo chuckled in his head, so all in all the whole night Harry was very happy.

He smiled and wished that breakfast will be as good as the night when suddenly three first years and five second year students blocked their path. Harry stiffened. All of them were Gryffindor. He recognized the first year boys include Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan, but not the second years.

"Stop gloating, cheater." One of them sneered. Blaise growled.

"Move, or I'll hex you!"

"Oh, Little snakes know more dark curses than we are." One of the second year Gryffindor sneered. "No wonder Slytherin is the source of evil."

"Don't you dare!" Blaise shouted, but Ronald Weasley was faster than him. He was stunned, leaving Harry defenceless against the whole bullies. Harry didn't pay attention as he was busy worrying about Blaise when a stunner hit him on the back too.

* * *

When he woke up, Harry felt stiff. The smell of earth and leaves were around him, but everything was dark. When he looked around, he was in the middle of a forest of somekind.

Fear started to creep into his mind. Where was he?

_It's the Forbidden Forrest, Child. Those bastards dumped you here. This place is dangerous._

Harry bit his lips. "It's fine, Marvolo. I don't think it's their fault. I always make people hate me anyway."

_Child, this is unacceptable. And to think they called themselves Gryffindor, the House of the Brave. Bravery to bully a small boy in groups. How disappointing._

Harry didn't reply, instead he watched the bushes and dense trees around him. It felt like night time, even though Harry knew it was still noon. It was so dense that sunlight couldn't penetrate into the forest. And then he remembered something.

"Marvolo, didn't you want to find something in Forbidden Forrest? Since we are here anyway, why don't you tell me what to do?"

_Child, it is true that I asked you to visit Forbidden Forrest, but I was hoping I have prepared you, not like this. You are defenceless against all the creatures here and I cannot help you now, I am still too weak._

"I don't mind," Harry answered. "You don't need to protect me, Marvolo. I don't want to be saved anyway. Why don't we do what you want since I am still alive? I will try my best to stay alive until you regain a new body soon."

Marvolo didn't answer. Harry sighed and started to walk. Then he realized that his ankle was broken. He wasn't sure why it was broken. Maybe he fell when the Gryffindor dumped him? Or maybe they did purposely break his ankle so he couldn't walk? Either way, Harry didn't really care. He was used to the pain and broken bones. He would just sit there and waited until it healed. Usually broken bones healed within hours anyway.

* * *

Hours passed. Marvolo didn't talk to him anymore so Harry kept his silent as well. As time passed by, the forest became darker and darker. Sometimes something passed around him, among the bushes. Harry watched in serene. He was not a fool. He knew how dangerous his situation was, and truthfully, he couldn't bring himself to care.

While waiting for his fate, Harry assessed the whole two days. After he was almost being a traitor to Slytherin, suddenly he brought glory to his house. And then his house praised him. But then it made the Gryffindor hated him, and now he was left alone to die in the forest. Just like one of the story Aunt Petunia told Dursley (which, again, Harry shamelessly eavesdropped. It got really lonely when he was alone and scared inside the small cupboard. He wished his mother was there for him just like how Aunt Petunia smothered over Dursley when he was afraid. Aunt Petunia's voice were so smooth and motherly when she told those stories. Unconsciously, Harry yearned for it too and extended his hearing through the wall) about Hansel and Gretchel.

Harry then wondered, maybe he just shouldn't be bothered by all of them. All his school mates are hard to please and hard to understand as well. Whatever Harry did, someone would get angry over it and hurt him. It was tiring, and frankly, after crying his worst the day before, Harry couldn't be bothered anymore.

Let them think what the wanted; it was fine if they hated him. it will be even better if they actually kill him. So he can die earlier. But he knew he couldn't ask them frankly to kill Harry. It was just a simple logic. His professor probed his mind and knew Harry wants to die. So he didn't let Harry die. Marvolo told him that he would kill Harry when the time comes, but so far he was still alive. So in conclusion, if Harry told other about his death wish, people would prevent him from dying.

_Foolish child!_

Harry jumped when he heard Marvolo spoke out to him. he had forgotten than Marvolo could listen whatever he was thinking inside his mind.

"…I am sorry." Harry apologized, knowing that all he could do was to ask for forgiveness. Marvolo inside his head sighed.

_Child, listen to me. You have the potential to be a great wizard, greater than any of the bastards inside Hogwarts could ever be. Don't you think it's a waste to die and let that magic potential you had disappeared?_

"Potential?" Harry asked. "What is that?"

_It means power, raw power, my Child. You have enormous, more than you think. You are destined to be a great man, Harry. Don't surrender to your emotions. Don't be weak._

"Thank you for your concern, Marvolo. But I don't really find it as a reason to stay alive. I just want.. To leave this place, you see. I want to go to a place where people like me and they wouldn't bully me or hit me or ask me to do chores. I want to meet my parents. Aren't they supposed to love you? I think if I apologize sincerely to them, they would forgive me and let me live with them. I hope I don't ashamed them, though. I am still a freak after all."

_Child… Listen. Whoever your parents are doesn't matter. You are you. You live for yourself. You don't need to constantly asking for acknowledgement from other. You do everything for yourself._

"But I don't need anything anymore. I don't want to stay alive. Nobody wants me to. So why should I?"

… _If that is the case, why don't you stay alive for me? I want you to stay alive._

"… Aren't you promise to kill me when you get your body back?"

_It was my initial decision, but now, with your potential, I want to train and teach you magic so that you can be even greater._

"If you wish." Harry sighed in defeat. "But I still don't want to live here."

_Then follow me. I will bring you someplace else when I get my body._

"How are we going to get your body then?"

_I need you to find a unicorn… and suck their blood. Their blood consists of magic that can anchor me to the real physical world so that I can take over your body. Then I will take you to meet her._

"Her? Who is 'she', Marvolo? And where are we going to find a unicorn?"

_You'll see her soon. She is a magnificent beauty, majestic and strong. You can find unicorns in this forest, but they only attracted to innocence and girls. I just finished healing your ankle, you should be able to walk properly now._

Harry tried to stand. His ankle was healed, although it was still sore and tender. But he started to move along the bushes, looking around and around, trying to find a unicorn.

How does one find a unicorn anyway? Harry wondered as he passed some bushes. Then he noticed some sparkling fine thread around the bushes, which looked like a fine spider web. But upon closer look, it was bits of hairs, long silver strands.

Touching the silver thread, Harry found that the strands were pulsated with tense magic. It was warm and tingling, as if he was touching a small electric chord he used to play with (because he didn't have many toys to begin with, while the chord was quite nice and long and sometimes Harry could pretend that he got shocked when touching the chords). And suddenly the view in front of him changes, showing ripples of air, flowing like water. He passed through the line and looked around.

And then he saw a white horse lying on the ground, just a few meters in front of him. The white horse has silver strands of mane and tail, with a proud iron horn on its forehead. Harry was amazed from what he saw. The horse was clearly pregnant, and looked like she was in the last stages of her pregnancy. Her stomach was big and the muscle around it spasm in quick interval.

Harry didn't know that he just passed the barrier made by the mare. The silver hair strands were usually prepared by unicorn mare to give them a safe area to give birth. Usually the strands of hair grant them another dimension, so that no other creatures can come in, sans those who are purer than unicorns themselves. And true to this, Marvolo's existence in his mind was repressed until Harry couldn't feel or hear the professor's voice anymore, as long as he was inside the barrier.

The mare looked up and saw Harry. She started to panic; yet when Harry kneeled down in front of her and smiled, it seemed to understand that Harry wasn't there to hurt her. Magic has shown her blessings and let him came through the birthing barrier, so that's mean the human boy was an innocent soul and he was there to help her. Very rare for the current human race.

Harry went closer, slowly but surely, towards the mare. He wanted to lessen the pain, but he wasn't sure how to persuade the mare to let him. When he was in touching range, Harry signed to the horse, smiling gently and placed his hand on his own chest, crossing his palms together as if he was blessing his chest. The mare looked like understanding what he meant, so when Harry touched her stomach, she didn't response much aside from a bit of twitch.

Then Harry began to use his magic, slowly, to warm up the body. To massage the mare's stomach. It was a slow process, but eventually the water broke, and half an hour latter, two feet kicked out from the mare's body. Harry was amazed by the sight of blood and water, the smell of placenta as well as the beauty of birthing process.

Slowly the baby was born. Harry didn't touch the baby at all, unconsciously understanding that the mare wouldn't let him touch her precious baby and the baby needs it own strength to get out of its mother's body. Slowly, the body emerged, and a grey, mini unicorn with a small golden horn on its forehead was born.

The mare licked its child, cleaning it from all the messes. Harry saw the mess of blood and placenta around. He then remembered Marvolo was asking for unicorn blood, so he turned to the mare and asked.

"May I have the spilled birth blood? Marvolo wants it to get him his body back. Can I give it to him?"

The mare looked like thinking for a while before whining and moved, giving Harry more access to the spilled blood underneath her stomach and rear end. Harry smiled and tried to scoop the blood; alas his hands were too small. He didn't know how to collect the blood, and they dried very easily.

Then he did the only thing he could; he scooped the blood and placenta mixture as much as he could into his palms.

"Marvolo, how am I going to give you this?"

But there was no answer. He didn't know that Marvolo couldn't be inside the unicorn barrier. Harry started to panic, between not having answer and the quickly drying blood mixture. Out of his panic, he immediately put the mixture into his mouth, and drunk it all.

The taste was something Harry never wanted to have again. It was not unlike drinking his own blood, but plus something else that smelled and tasted like rotten fish.

He felt different straightaway. Harry could see his body was glowing and suddenly Marvolo was back into his head, his voice sounded stronger and Harry could feel his presence even better.

_Child… You are truly a miracle._

What? Harry asked. He didn't understand. The mare was still licking its child in front of Harry, but her eyes were on Harry. Watching the weird boy closely. Marvolo continued to explain what happened.

_You actually get permission from a unicorn to get its blood. Do you know that in normal situation, the minute that blood touches your lips, you are cursed for eternity? I guess since you helped her and you were trying to help me, the blood didn't curse you. It gave you more energy instead. Especially with the mixture of new life liquid in it._

Ah. Harry pretended he understand while he actually don't. He only caught the part that he was not in trouble. But is it a good thing for Marvolo?

_Yes, Child. You are brilliant. I can see myself now. You make me stronger and more real. I can even pass the unicorn barrier._

Good then. Harry smiled and turned back to the mare.

"Thank you so much."

Harry didn't expect the mare to lick his hand back, and letting him touches her child. Harry smiled and felt so good, patting both the mother and child slowly, gently, for hours until he fell asleep beside the mother and child. Before he surrendered into the darkness, he wondered for the first time, did his mother loves him like the mare did when Harry was born from her?

He would never know, sadly. And honestly Harry was scared to know; because usually the truth always disappoints him.

* * *

When he woke up again, both the mare and the child were gone, leaving him alone in the middle of another part of the forest. Harry rubbed his eyes, feeling a bit disappointed from being abandoned. He bit his lips and realized it was already night. The forest was even darker than before.

Then he started to feel a bit scared.

It was dark and he was alone. Well, he wasn't alone, but he didn't know what to do. So he tried to call Marvolo. No answer. Harry felt himself frozen with fear. Where did Marvolo go? Has he got his new body and left him alone? It was very possible, after all.

Harry bit his lower lips. He shouldn't blame Marvolo, after all he was just a broken boy, who wants him? Maybe someone else would remember him? And shouldn't someone be searching for him now? People should have noticed he was gone. He was the star of the quidditch party last night, so people should notice him gone… at least… right?

Or maybe they just didn't care. Harry smiled bitterly. Why did he always torture himself with disappointment after disappointment? Why did he keep having this wishful thinking that someone will care? Haven't he learned enough?

And he became ultra sensitive to the changes around him. A sound, a movement. Leaves and bushes around him frictioning against each other. The sounds of animals and wind. The movement of shadows. Slow movement underneath his feet. The biting cold.

He was scared.

And the worst part is he didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure what to do. He has always wished this, hasn't he? He would die, alone in darkness. But he never felt that afraid before. This was something beyond him; and his eleven years old mentality was crying inside him, wanting no more than a safe place with lights and warm bed.

Someone. He hoped someone would come and save him.

Someone.

Please.

Please.

"…Is anybody there?" Harry shouted, as loud as he could. "Help…?"

No answer.

Harry begun to desperate.

"Please? Someone?"

No answer.

"Marvolo?"

There were some voices around him. But nobody, nothing moves.

"Professor Snape?"

"…rry?" Suddenly some voice called out to him. Harry perked up.

"Yes! Yes! I am here, please! Yes!"

"Harry?" the voice was getting stronger and when Harry could see the billowing robes of his head of the house, Harry jumped into the man, grabbing it as close as he could.

"Harry, are you alright?"

Harry didn't answer and busy burying himself into Professor Snape's robes. Snape scooped up the child and realized Harry was shaking and his body was very cold. But the boy didn't cry or talk or shout. He seemed to be burying himself inside the silence.

Snape sighed. He was so worried about Lily's boy. After yesterday accident, he knew the stupid Gryffindors would retaliate, but he couldn't believe what Blaise Zabini reported to him. Apparently Blaise was left on the corridor, perfectly stunned while the other students levitated Harry together to someplace else. Blaise was rescued by some of the passing Ravenclaw fifth years; and then he reported everything to Snape.

Snape was beyond angry and demanded Dumbledore to do something about it; alas, Dumbelore thought it was just a harmless house rivalry and didn't pursue the matter. Snape sneered in disgust and disappointment over the old man he used to think as a father before leaving the headmaster office and went to find the boy-who-live-but-wished-to-die. Dumbledore just didn't understand that in this situation, Harry might choose to kill himself. And Snape has a really solid argument after he saw Harry tried to open the third level corridor. Snape knew it was not so much as Harry knew about the philsoper stone; as Harry was trying to find 'the painful death'. Luckily the boy has the common sense to lock the door back and went away.

When Harry didn't return by the dinner time, Snape couldn't control himself and he took Ronald Weasley with him. After performing legilimency (and interrogating the boy simultaneously), he found that they left Harry in the deeper outskirt of Forbidden Forrest. Snape then took two hundred points from Gryffindor and gave three weeks worth of detentions with Filch for the three first year and five second years. When confronted by Minerva McGonagall about it, Snape told her the truth. Thankfully she still had the sense to be ashamed and angry at her own lions, unlike Dumbledore.

He then went to the forest and trying to locate the boy without avail, until suddenly he heard the boy's voice calling for him. Luckily they met and now the boy is safe in his arms.

"Harry… sssh…are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Harry shook his head, but refusing to let go.

"Harry, it is fine now. Everything is fine. Let's go back."

"Sir… I am …. I am scared, sir."

"Sssh. I understand. I am here; you don't need to be scared anymore. Let's go back to the castle."

"Sir… can I go home?"

"Harry?"

"I don't want to stay here anymore. I don't want to be here, sir. I don't like the people here, sir. I don't understand their rules. What did I do wrong? I don't mind coming back to privet Drive, sir. At least I understand the rules there."

"Harry, calm down. I won't let them hurt you anymore. I promise."

"…Never promise, sir. Adults always give empty promises."

Snape didn't answer. He took the boy to the infirmary. But he was sure he needed to do something to show Harry that he was not one of the un-dependable 'adults' Harry always had. Madam Pomfrey treated the boy as Harry suffered from mild pneumonia. She mothered him the whole night, making Harry felt a bit awkward.

As he stared to the ceilings, he wondered where Marvolo went. Maybe he was already out there doing great things. Oh well, so much for a promise. Adult never hold their promises.

_Child, I am sorry._

Harry froze. Marvolo was still inside him?

_I am still here, Harry. I was unable to control myself until a moment before. The shock of having a physical anchor from unicorn blood knocked me out from my consciousness. I am sorry for what you felt. Please believe me when I say I won't leave you alone, ever._

Harry bit his lips, and the first tear started to leak. It was followed by some other silent tear, for Harry did have a heavy day and needed to unwind. He silently sobbed into the pillow. Really, it was hard. He had cried and cried and cried just in two months since he started coming. He had been in the Dursleys for years and never cried that much. He preferred Privet Drive than magic. He wanted to go back to the small cupboard. He wanted to stay in his cocoon.

He was only half listening to the professor inside his head. Marvolo soothed him, telling him great story, praising Harry and promising him that everything will be better soon. Yet Harry, in his broken heart, wondered how long 'soon' would take. Years? Decade? Never?

Soon.

* * *

Harry is still a child, but he will grow harder. eventually. Alas, I am sorry for I cannot put in the Philsopher Stone or DADA professor. This forbidden forest scene blew out of proportion.

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	5. Chapter 5

My dear Beta is back. She already get through the first chapter, and half of the second. in other words, this chapter is not betaed.

Thank you for the reviews.

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry was released from the infirmary. Blaise welcomed him with open arms. Apparently the whole Harry fiasco has reached all student body, because the Gryffindors who kidnapped Harry were targeted as the main victim of Gryffindor upper year students' pranks (especially from the Weasley twin) and scorn. Both Ravenclaw and Huflepuff looked down on the lion house for their cowardly behaviour while the snakes' hatred towards the lions doubled up. For the next week, fights and hexing were many, especially when Slytherin met Gryffindor in the corridor.

The next day was Halloween. The Feast was one of the bigger feasts in Hogwards. Harry sat beside Blaise in silent while others were chatting among themselves, appraising the wonderfully decorated room. Instead of enjoying himself like others, Harry was preparing his mind. Marvolo has told him that they needed to do something that night, and had asked Harry to slip some raw steaks into a stasis-ed box inside his robe.

When he saw the teacher's table, Harry could feel the stare from Professor Snape and the headmaster. Harry pretended he didn't know and hid behind his big robes. He wanted to curl and ran away. He didn't want to burden the professor anymore. Snape has done so much for him. Then the headmaster delivered his weird speech before the food magically appeared on the table. Harry was reminded of his urge to thank the house elves again and asked Marvolo whether they can go to the kitchen later. The professor agreed, but deciding that they will have more time in Christmas breaks.

Harry slowly pilled up the food into the box. It was a magically enhanced box that can be filled endlessly. Blaise noticed that Harry wasn't eating, and instead was packing some food into the box. Raw steaks and roast meat.

"Harry, why are you not eating?"

Harry stopped, caught red handed. He bit his lips and looked back to his only friend, eyes staring like a kicked puppy. Blaise was taken aback, suddenly feeling a rush of protectiveness over the most adorable thing. He shook his head.

"No, you need to eat before you packed them, Harry. Come, eat this roast potato, it is very good."

Harry nodded and stabbed the potato with his fork, slowly eating. Some other students around them sneered at the way Harry stabbed his potato. So pleibeian. But they held their tongue because Harry is the current symbol of Gryffindor's cowardliness, and so should be treasured by Slytherins.

Suddenly the happy gushes in the Great Hall turned silent when one girl from Hufflepuff shrieked like she met a banshee. The next second, her body was gone and instead she became a badger. She was the first one, followed by many that night. One by one, people from different houses changed into their House animal, Hufflepuff the bager, Ravenclaw the raven, and Gryfindor the lion. However, Slytherin, instead of becoming a snake, turned into earthworms.

Chaos erupted, and the professors were all busy trying to make sense of the situation. Harry, however, was one of students who weren't changed. Blaise was another one, and the boy was panicking because suddenly his other friend Draco Malfoy turned to a yellow flobberworm.

_Harry, this is an unexpected opportunity to slip out. Do it quietly. I want you to meet someone._

Harry nodded and using his usual silent gait, he slipped out from the Great Hall easily. His steps were careful and silent; his body crunched to make him as small and as unnoticeable as possible. Marvolo guided him to a toilet in level two girl's toilet.

Harry peered down to the sink and saw a small snake was curling around one of the faucet.

_Now, I need you to surrender your body to me so that we can open this chamber… Let me, child… I need to speak to the snake. I am strong enough, from the unicorn blood's power. I need to speak to the sssnake…_

What? Harry asked. I can help you with that.

_Silly child… you cannot speak to snake._

Harry was silenced. Well, maybe Marvolo is right. So he let the professor take control of his mind, just that minute; and his mouth spoke out,

_Opensssss… Elevator…._

Harry wasn't sure what happened next, because the sink suddenly opened up and a deep tunnel formed within it. Marvolo asked him to jump in, so he did. Harry noticed that Marvolo became tired, after taking control of his mind for just a minute. The boy felt guilty and swore that he would do the next speaking thing to snake if possible, so that Marvolo wouldn't be forced to take control of Harry and exhausted himself.

They flew in and the sink immediately returned to initial state. Harry wondered where they were going, as he was levitated through the tunnel, up in the air, touching nothing. The tunnel was very dark and smelled bad, so harry knew it was dirty. Maybe Marvolo wants him to clean up?

_Silly boy. Of course not. I am taking you here to meet my lady._

Oh. Harry nodded. When they finally stopped, Harry felt he was gently put on the floor on his two feet. In front of him was a huge door with a statue of a man standing in front of it.

_This is Salazar Slytherin, my ancestor._

Harry nodded, but in awe. Wonderful, that is. Marvolo was such a strong and wonderful professor. He even descended back from Salazar Slytherin himself! He then heard a chuckle inside his head, courtesy to Marvolo.

_Thank you, child. But I need to take control again, so that I can open the door._

"Let me", Harry whispered. "I think I can do it."

_You cant speak to snake, child._

"What should I say?"

_Child, don't be ridiculous. Let me._

"No, Marvolo. You are tired. I can do it."

_Fine, if you failed, you need to give me control. You don't even know what you are listening to. Say, 'O the Greatest of Four Founders, Grant me your power of the chamber."_

Harry said the exact thing, and little did he know, he was speaking in Parseltongue. The door immediately opened and Harry was welcomed with the sight of a hall even greater than Great Hall, with torches illuminating lights all around him, marble floors (albeit a bit dirty) and elegant pillars with the shape of snake's heads on either side of the hall. The ceilings were decorated with stalactite and stalagmite, with greenish crystal fog accumulated on the centre of it. Harry also noted that there was a small door on the other end of the room.

_You… You speak Parseltongue!_

Harry shook his head. He didn't understand what that was. All he knew he was speaking perfect English.

_But you can open the room, Child. You can speak to snakes, can't you?_

Well, Harry did talk to some snakes at the back garden of Prive Drive some years back, when he was doing his chores tending the garden. But it wasn't a big deal, was it? Or it was? So he has another thing to distinguish him as a 'freak' amongst 'freaks'?

_Silly child. Hush for now. This ability is a blessing. Only those with pure bloodline from Salazar himself have this ability. That means you are a descendant as well. You and I are the only two people capable of this language in Britain._

So… he wasn't a freak, right? Because Marvolo has the same ability and Marvolo is definitely not a freak. Harry relaxed, just in time when suddenly a huge, fifty feet snake came to him, slithering on the smooth marbles. Its eyes were yellow and striking, and when it looked at him, Harry felt a bit of pressure pushing into his mind. Just like the probing done by Professor Snape and the Sorting Hat. But it came as fast as it went.

_:Tom? Is that you?:_

Harry coiled in fear, but Marvolo assured him that he would be alright. He ensured Harry that the eyes wouldn't kill them because they are parseltongues. They both can speak anyway, and so he ordered Harry to greet the snake, telling him about himself and the Marvolo that currently resided inside his head.

_:It's been so long and now I meet two speakers! So what can I do for you? Anyone you want me to kill or eat?:_

_No_ , Marvolo answered through Harry,  _I just want to introduce you to this child, my vessel for now. Child, this is Annana, Slytherin's familiar Basilisk. Annana, this is Harry Potter, a Parseltongue._

_:Is he Slythern's child too?:_

_I am still unsure, but from his ability, I'd wager it is the case._

Marvolo and Annana kept talking using Harry as the medium. Harry didn't pay much attention to the conversation, letting his mouth parroting whatever Marvolo was saying. He also gave his pre-packed meat to the serpent. Annana was delighted and enjoyed her food in gusto. But then she complained that the roast meat bits were poisoned with weird concoction. Marvolo then explained maybe that was how the prank for the entire Hogwarts students was achieved.

Harry started to relax and he unconsciously touched the huge serpent's skins. The scales were hard and strong, black and greenish in colour making it looked like unbreakable armour. It looked very dangerous. Deadly. The serpent can easily kill him. Harry was amused by the trail of thought, and he stopped mediating the talk between Marvolo and Annana. He unconsciously snuggled to the serpent's cold body instead.

It felt good, despite the hard scales, to curl up around the long, coiled serpent body. He rubbed his cheek on the scales. True, it was hard and cold, but when they coiled around him, Harry felt as if he was protected. As if he was safe. Yet it also felt very dangerous. He would be crushed if the serpent decided to do so. And Harry, being Harry, didn't care so much about the deadly threat. Then he heard Marvolo chuckled.

_Why am I not surprised that you feel safe inside the deadliest serpent in the world's coil?_

Harry smiled. The question felt like affection. Annana also flicked her tongue onto Harry's face, as if trying to soothe him. Enjoying the act, Harry closed his eyes and let his tiredness take his consciousness away.

* * *

Serverus Snape was frantically trying to locate the one boy who was missing. After the whole turning-into-animal chaos, teachers finally able to return everyone back to human form. After counting each of them, the Feast officially ended and everybody went away to their dorms. However, there was one boy missing. And of course, it was none other than Harry Potter.

Snape panicked, but he didn't let it shown. The Slytherin House were the worst, since they turned into flobberworm/earthworm, so they were more prone to being squashed or lost. but eventually he managed to collect all his students. The other teachers were already investigating who was responsible for the dangerous prank. And all eyes went to the Weasley twins, who were grinning among themselves on the Gryffindor table.

Snape didn't have time to berate the menacing twins; he was busy looking around place to find Harry. He even tried accio, but Harry wasn't in the hall anymore. With panic, Snape went to the third corridor. When he couldn't find Harry there, he was a bit relieved, but just a bit. He almost get bitten by the atrocious animal though.

He then looked around, up and down the castle. Harry was nowhere to be found.

His panic level rise exponentially as the time passed. He returned to the dorm to find that Harry hasn't returned as yet. He asked Blaise Zabini to inform him if Harry returned, and then continue searching.

He was totally, utterly, perfectly shock when he found the boy curled up on the floor in front of his quarter's door. The boy snored lightly, like he was in deep, deep sleep. The floor was dirty, cold and uncomfortable, but the boy looked at ease. It pained Snape to think maybe Harry was used to the coldness of the floor.

He slowly took the boy from the floor, carrying him in. He noticed again and again, everytime he carried the boy, he felt too light to be an eleven years old. Then he realized the lack of glasses as well as the poor condition of the boy's clothing.

Maybe he could bring Harry for a necessity shopping soon.

After he placed Harry on a conjured bed in his own master bedroom, Snape went to prepare for his next classes. He did it in his bedroom, occasionally watching the sleeping boy's thin chest went up and down, slowly but still breathing.

He hoped Harry wouldn't turn out like him. Or the Dark Lord.

He was such a sweet boy.

* * *

"Harry, please stay behind."

The boy stopped packing his books and stared back at the headmaster who was teaching as the substitute DADA professor. Other students went away, but some Gryfindor boys sneered, feeling jealousy over the attention given to the Boy-Who-Lived by their idol, Albus Dumbledore, the leader of the light.

Albus watched as the small boy nodded, slowly packing his books back into the bag, and walked slowly to the teacher's desk. The bag on his body was almost as big as the boy himself. He was truly too small for an eleven years old boy. The skinny, petite boy walked like shadow, with no sound and grace born from the habit of wanting to stay unnoticed by other.

"Yes, headmaster?"

"Harry, my child, you can call me Albus."

The boy's eyes shone like two green emeralds. Albus was tempted to do a bit of legilimency, but well, his consciousness reminded him of how he was the cause of Harry's suffering, and thus, he should give the boy at least some privacy he deserved.

He waited, but apparently Harry was waiting for him too. So he spoke.

"Harry, I have a report from Professor Snape about you."

The boy blinked before letting his gaze down onto the floor. Albus was expecting more emotion, maybe sadness, scowl or rage; yet he was disappointed with the lack of response.

"Harry… do you want to share your problem with me? Maybe I can help you. I really care for you like my own grandson."

Harry didn't look up. He knew this type of adult. His old headmistress was one. She acted like she cares, but when Harry told her the truth that he didn't know why his teacher's hair turned blue, she became hostile and started to call him a 'little liar'.

"… I am fine, sir."

Albus sighed. The little boy didn't look like giving up soon. So he opted from another angle, trying to bring out more positive emotions. "So, please sit down and tell me how your school life is so far. Just to indulge an old man's wish? I am interested in your life, Harry."

Harry naturally sat on the floor beside the desk. But he won't look at the headmaster's eyes. He felt a really gentle bit of probing earlier, and although it stopped rather quickly, Harry realized that the headmaster was also trying to get into his head. He didn't like it, and Marvolo has told Harry to never disclose the professor inside his head to anyone. So he would protect Marvolo.

"It is fine, sir."

"I heard that you are a very hardworking student, Harry. Maybe lacking in the practical bit, but I am sure you will be fine after a bit of practice. Do you need help with that?"

"No, sir. Thank you, sir."

Albus' eyes stopped twinkling. It was harder than he thought, to bring out the child's response. Serverus did mention it, but Albus put it aside, believing in his rather wonderful grandfather-like charm. Maybe he could ask a more personal question.

"How is the Slytherin House, Harry? Do you have many friends? I know that Slytherin students, although a bit…  _cold_ , are quite accepting?"

"It is fine, sir, thank you."

"… How about friends? Care to name your best friend so far?"

Harry stopped thinking. He could answer that without thinking. "Blaise, sir. Blaise Zabini."

"Oh, he is a wonderful choice, my child." Albus smiled. Zabinis are a neutral family, even if they are descendent from dark creature succubus. At least they are better than Draco Malfoy. "So, what is your hobby? What do you do together with Zabini, Harry?"

"…I eat with him, sir. I share my classes with him."

"Good, good." Albus nodded. "Well, any other friend you might want to tell me? Maybe some other friends from other houses? Huflepuff and Gryffindor, for example. They are good bunch of kids."

Harry cringed. Gryffindor was his main bully, while Huflepuff was the main gossiper behind his back. He didn't like other first year students from those houses. "…No, sir."

"Oh, maybe you need to open your wing, young man. Friendship is always wonderful with the  _right, good_  people. How about Ronald Weasley? I know the family well and they are really good and from the Light."

The comment was aimed to manipulate Harry into thinking of further making friends amongst Light families, instead of burying his head in the Slytherin house. He was aiming to be a grandfatherly figure that Harry absolutely can trust by promoting goodness. But little did Albus know that his comment make Harry's distrust of him increased. For Harry, a person who thought that they know the best solution to everything without actually assessing the situation is the worst hypocrite. And Professor Dumbledore has taken the crown.

_Don't listen to him, Child. He is the one who send you to the filthy Dursley when you were one year old._

Marvolo's voice inside his head froze Harry. Was that the truth? Why?

"Harry?" Albus asked again, realizing that Harry wasn't paying attention to him. "Are you still listening to me?"

Harry asked Marvolo inside his head once again. Was that the truth? Then why?

_He is a big manipulative liar, Harry. He is the reason you suffer in Dursley's care for years. Not to mention how his attention brought you more bullies._

Harry couldn't find fault in that. Marvolo was right. But still, he needed to ask the headmaster his side of the story. Because the old man said he cared for Harry like a grandson. So there should be some reasons why Dumbledore left him with the Dursley without checking him or doing anything.

"Professor… Are you really the one who left me with the Dursley when I was one year old?"

The question froze Albus. What? How did the boy know?

"Well, it was true that I suggested you to be subjected under their care…"

"Why, sir?" The boy suddenly looked up, his emerald eyes staring right at the headmaster, as if they were hurt. "Why did you do that? Why?"

"I… Well, I did suggest you to stay there, because they are your last family, Harry. You need to stay with your family."

"Why is 'family' so important?" Harry asked again, this time with real interest. He was trying to get some reason why people hate him and maybe he could do something about it. "If I am magical, wouldn't it be better if I stay with a magical family?"

"Harry, Harry. It is not good to think that we are better than the non-magical counterparts. They are as amazing as you and I, and I believe your family has provided you with excellent care? I know for sure they give you clothes and food, right?"

For the first time in his life, Harry felt anger rising in his chest. 'Excellent care' his arse. He did give the Dursleys 'excellent care' as a slave in the Privet Drive. Clothes and food his arse. The clothing wasn't even wearable sometimes and he was usually fed scraps and leftover. The memory of himself, digging the kitchen trash can at night trying to find a bit of leftover was still freshly imprinted in his head.

His mind started to think in another direction, and instead of hopelessness he usually had or the need to curl up and die, Harry felt anger and rage instead. Maybe because he had enough. Maybe because his heart was already very hollow. Or maybe because the headmaster's talk and act were so irritating.

"But sir, when I asked… when I saw other family, I realize that they don't actually asked their children to wash, cook, do the laundry, do the garden, clean the house, scrub the bathroom every single day, sir. Their parents don't kick or whip them with belt if the food is not ready by 6.30 in the morning, sir. They got to use the toilet, not the backyard grass. Also, they all have nice clothes and good, new shoes, sir. They can eat everyday without working first and they get pocket money. They even get Birthday parties and presents, sir. If that is what family for, then why don't I get all that?"

"Harry…"

"I am sick and tired of adults telling me lies, sir. Professor Snape said I don't deserve it, the hat said I deserve a better life, Hagrid told me that I will be better in Hogwarts. But all I get till now is that there is no different. I am still the freak; I am still bullied. I am still the poorest kid in class. I get jinxed and slapped and kicked and my books were stolen. I get a cursed letter and I was laughed by the whole school. I was kidnapped and dropped in the Forbidden Forrest. And nobody went looking for me, except Professor Snape. How is it fair, sir?"

Albus blinked. He was shocked, really. He never realized that Harry was being bullied like that. If that was the case, then it will be hard to instil love for wizarding world into the boy. Then it will be hard to persuade Harry to sacrifice himself in the future. This was bad.

"And you sir, you are the one who left me in front of the Dursley. Why don't you visit me, in the last nine years? If you really care, then why don't you visit just once? I never remember you in my life, professor. If you think of me as your grandson, why am I not with you, for the last nine years? So please don't lie like this. This is shameless of you, you see. Even a boy like me understand that much."

Albus was ashamed; his red face was hidden underneath the white hairs on his face. The boy's accusation strike right to home.

"Harry…"

"Tell me why, sir. Or at least please don't call me again because everytime you did this, calling me and giving me into the spotlight of attention, people get jealous and I get bullied more. I have Professor Snape as the head of my house, so you don't need to worry, sir. He is very kind to me."

Silent fell between them. Albus was ashamed and raged. He was itching to use legilimency and compulsion mind magic to make Harry change his perception. It was quite the truth, but not the way Albus wanted. The boy should have been thankful that he gave more attention to him. Harry should feel special and preferred by him. He should love the wizarding world based on the ill treatment of the muggles in his past.

But Albus knew that acting rash is not good; he has time afterall, to slowly changed Harry's warped view of the wizarding world and himself. So instead, he focused on the other thing that Harry mentioned: Snape.

"I am very gravely sorry for this, my child. I regret everything so much. If I have had known before… I trust that your family will provide better care… and I left you there because the family ward gives you the best protection, Harry. Please remember that after Voldemort's gone, his followers were enraged and tried to kill you for revenge of their master… But if you want to talk more about this, you may ask Professor Snape, dear child."

Harry shook his head in disbelieve. His anger has changed into impatience and the need to run away from the bullshit uttered from the headmaster's mouth. It was the longest time Harry has every spoken in his life, and now this adult was saying that basically, he was just a child with a wrong conclusion. The headmaster even told him to check his lies with Professor Snape! It was just not making any sense. It was infuriating. He was right thinking that adult couldn't be trusted (except Marvolo, of course) and everybody is out there to hurt him. There was no reason. They were just there to hurt him.

"That's also another lie I don't get. Do you all actually held a meeting and made up that lie with everyone? Because I know the truth, sir. My parent died from drunk driving. I don't understand why you all wanted me to believe they were killed? Isn't it even crueller, to said they were killed instead of died out of an accident? What is wrong with you people? Why everybody wants to hurt me so much? Is it that much  _fun_?"

With that, Harry promptly left the room, leaving the headmaster sat and contemplated in silence.

* * *

Marvolo expressed his worry and also amusement that the first person Harry snapped on was Dumbledore. Harry blushed in shame, but the professor told him that it was rational for Harry to be angry. It was actually better than the usual Harry who always blames himself. But Harry was too ashamed to acknowledging it, and didn't want to argue further.

Christmas break came near. Every single child was busy planning their holiday, leaving Harry alone I his thought. He didn't think that Christmas was all that enjoyable, for the only Christmas present he ever got from Dursley was a hanger and another set of Duddley's cast offs. He listened, though, and found the stories of Christmas with tree and dinner matched what Dursley had. It made him wonder why the 'freaks' and 'normal' all celebrated Christmas in the same way. Are 'freaks' Christian as well?

Marvollo hissed in anger, telling him that muggles has corrupted the way wizarding world thinks. Because of the muggle's influence, the wizarding traditions started to disappear.

Another thing was about the returning home. Harry put his name down on the list people who will stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. Professor Snape asked him why, and Harry replied his uncle gave him the ultimatum the day before September first that Harry will only be welcomed back to the house in Summer break. Snape looked pensive and accepted the answer.

He didn't know that Harry wasn't telling the whole truth. Marvolo urged Harry to stay as well. He has lots of reasons: to help Harry find the kitchen, to get Harry down and get used to Annana, to prepare Harry for pagan rituals in Christmas, making the best out of magic. Also, Marvolo wanted him to go back to the chamber to read books. Apparently there was a library down there, owned by Salazar Slytherin himself.

But Harry suspected it wasn't the whole reasoning. Marvolo seemed to hate his relatives so much and scowled at Harry whenever the boy wanting to go back to the place.

So he stayed, and he was the only Slytherin first year who stayed. There were two other students from fifth and seventh year respectively and a couple from other houses as well. The day the train took the majority of students away, Harry let out a huge sigh.

* * *

Please remember, Harry believes the lie that his parents went drunk driving. Or maybe, he preferred it.

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	6. Chapter 6

So many mistakes: Lost words, bad grammar etc. that's why I reposted this me. Pardon me.

Enjoy!

* * *

Kitchen was amazing. Harry found the house elves and their extreme enthusiasm. Harry felt like he found his kin. They all worked hard and love to serve. It felt like whatever Harry used to do. He tried to help, offering his cooking skill or cleaning skill; but the elves looked at him in horror and cried. So he stopped asking and instead engaging them in chatters.

From them, Harry found a lot of new stuff: from the better way to clean dirty room to how to get the stain gone. Of course, the majority of their conversations were about food recipe and preparing tips. The elves were more than happy to answer him and he was even happier to eat whatever they provided. They even fetched Hedwig for Harry and let the owl stayed by Harry's shoulder while enjoying elf-made owl treats. All in all, Harry felt like he was in a world he always dreaming about: to be accepted. His mentality was, sadly, still those of servants.

Marvolo didn't like it, but he endured it because Harry was so happy. Also, sometimes, the elves would teach Harry a bit of magic, like how to instantly banished liquid and poured it in another container, how to move quick and fast, how to make themselves invisible. Harry enjoyed it so much that he didn't realize he was gaining ally as well as lost old magic preserved only by those elves.

Visit to the kitchen became a reward for Harry. Marvolo then used it to encourage the boy to study. Harry had gone back into the Chamber and found that the library books were all written in Gaelic, old English, or Parseltongue. Marvolo taught him a complex translation spell; Harry managed to master it two days afterward and he started reading.

The books were heavy in content. Harry had almost given up trying to understand it. Marvolo then changed his tactic and let Harry start from the legends book. He told Harry that legends were always partially true; and he showed Harry many examples of that. Then, if Harry managed to finish his reading for the day, Marvolo allowed him to go to the kitchen and played with the elves.

Annana came into the picture as a huge giant library protector and a sofa. Harry loves to curl inside her coils, while reading whatever Marvolo was asking him to do. The serpent loves the attention as well, as she never failed to flicker her tongue over Harry's head whenever she became Harry's sofa.

But no, Christmas wasn't all about studying. A week before Christmas day, Professor Snape approached Harry and took him to Hogsmeade to get some shopping done. Under the pretext that he needed to buy Potion Ingredients and Harry Potter was just taken to help him carrying bags; Snape bought Harry five sets of everyday clothes, some underwear and socks, and two horse skin boots. Snape wanted to get Harry a snake skin boots, but the boy adamantly refused to wear anything that is taken from snakes. Even with the horse skin boots, Harry was quite reluctant, and asked Snape whether he could get muggle plastic boots instead.

Harry didn't have much money with him, so he let Snape paid first. But he promised to return the money to his professor, before Snape snapped and barked at him, citing that 'I am not that poor to take money from an orphaned boy, moreover, a  _Potter_." It was said in such a degrading tone that Harry guessed the reason Professor Snape hated him might be because of his name. Why Professor Snape hated Potter name so much?

It was another mystery he needed to find out.

On the other hand, he could secure a small package of assorted sweets for Blaise's Christmas present. Harry was so excited, because it was his first time buying gift for someone. He had never had any money or someone to give the gift to. Now he has quite a list: Blaise, Professor Snape, Annana, the elves and Marvolo. When he asked Marvolo what he wanted, the professor inside his head chuckled and commanded Harry to spend more time I the chamber to study. Harry felt a bit down as he didn't really like to study the harder books, especially those written in Gaelic.

Since he already spent his money for Blaise's present, Harry opted for a handmade gift for Snape. He went to the outskirt of the Forbidden Forrest (much to Marvolo's displeasure) and collected as many potion ingredients he could find. Of course, the only special thing he could find was a small moonstone, but Harry was happy enough to be able to collect that moonstone, two huge containers of various mushroom and some rainbow mosses. Harry was so sure that his gift for the Professor would be very much appreciated, because the Professor seemed to love potion so much.

For Annana, Harry actually asked the elves to roast ten turkeys on Christmas day. Then Harry would shrink them and went to the chamber to give her. And for the elves, Harry gives them a flower for each one, wild flowers that he collected when he was finding Professor Snape's present.

So all in all, Harry was so excited about Christmas. The silent condition of the castle also helped, because Harry felt more at ease with nobody around him all the time.

* * *

When he opened his eyes on Christmas morning, he was amazed to find he got some presents as well. Harry didn't expect anything, because he was used to receive nothing that can be considered as gift even in his birthday. So he was overjoyed with all the presents. He got four presents: One from Blaise, one from Professor Snape (!), one from the house elves and one from the headmaster. Harry was frozen when he read the names, because he wasn't sure why on hell the headmaster wanted to send him a gift.

He opted to open Blaise's first, and he found the most wonderful black robes that was made from special silk. Marvolo told him that it is acromantula silk, and it is an expensive stuff. Harry felt bad because he only gave Blaise sweets; so he promised himself to get Blaise better present next year. He tried it straightaway, and the robes fit him perfectly as if Blaise knew all his measurement. When Marvolo heard Harry's train of thought, the professor acidly stated that the pureblood boy was nosing too much with  _his_  Harry. Harry didn't really get it why Marvolo was angry, but nevertheless, he was so thankful.

Next, he opened Professor Snape's present and got a book on Advance potion level 1. Harry was amused and started to open the book. Inside the book was many interesting simple potions and elixirs, including voice-changing potion, pepper-up potion, or simply making some sweet drinks that is well liked by children (which, Harry noticed, was actually some kind of nutrition potion for children who always fussy about their food). Harry would thank him latter.

He opened the gift from the House elves. It was a small porcelain cup with his name on it, Harree Pottery. It was spelled wrongly, but that was how the elves always called him, so Harry knew it was definitely his name. He grinned and put the cup on top of his desk, making sure that it was safe beside the chocolate frog Blaise first gave him.

And last, he opened the package. It was only covered by a simple brown paper, and it has a black, shimmering cloak in it. Harry read the letter, and it was in Headmaster's cursive writings:

_Dear Harry,_

_I want to sincerely apologize for our conversation last time. This is a gift for you. Your father placed it with me before he died, so I passed it on to you. Use it wisely._

_Albus Dumbledore,_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts,_

_Supreme Mugwump_

_Head of ICW_

Harry tried on the cloak and found the most wonderful thing: he actually became invisible! It's like using the invisibility spell the elves thought him, but Harry doesn't need to cast a spell! That was a very wonderful gift!

Then Marvolo pointed out that the cloak had been Harry's father's cloack. Dumbledore has no right to say that it was a gift from the old goat. Marvolo even went further and accused the headmaster as a thief. Harry cowed from that, but he could see how Marvolo got into the conclusion. In the end, Marvolo urged Harry to ask Snape and go to Gringotts again. Who knows how much money and artefacts the old goat has been leeching from Harry's fault.

Harry argued that Dumbledore doesn't have access to his fault. But Marvolo reminded him, from the way Hagrid got Harry's vault card, which meant Harry's fault is under someone's control. And Hagrid translated easily to Dumbledore. So no genius reasoning there.

In the end, Harry went to the Great Hall and saw Professor Snape was standing in front of the Great Hall's gate, as if he was waiting for someone. Harry came nearer and greeted the professor, thanking him for the book. He swore he saw Professor Snape smiled; but the smile vanished so fast Harry thought he was just imagining things. The professor has been waiting for Harry and asked the boy to come to his quarter after breakfast.

Breakfast passed on peacefully. The hall was occupied only by teachers and a handful of students, so the conversation was simple and more homely. Harry kept catching glances from the Headmaster, as if the headmaster wanted Harry to say something. Thank you, maybe? Marvolo scowled at that and forbid Harry from saying anything.

He followed Professor Snape afterwards, and was ushered to the Potion Master's private lab. There, he was asked to sit down on one of the stools.

Snape cleared his throat, as if he was preparing to give a speech.

"I… Ah, Thank you."

Harry waited for more, but nothing came. The boy tilted his head. "..For what, sir?"

"For the present." Snape looked away in embarrassment. It was mortifying to say thank you, especially to James Potter's son with Lily's eyes.

'Thank you for the present as well, Professor. You had been helping me all this time, I am grateful." Harry smiled sincerely. The professor looked mellowed a bit and then he asked Harry where he bought the moonstone.

Harry told him that he didn't buy it; he found it in the outskirt of the forest. Snape looked shocked at his revelation. The Potion Master knew that although there are some moonstones of first grade (like the one Harry gave him) in the forest; those moonstones are guarded fiercely by the centaurs because of their divination prowess. He couldn't believe that such moonstone can be found scattered around the outskirt of the forest. The mushroom and mosses are abundant enough, but a hassle to collect; thus Harry actually saved him up lots of time.

And then he realized that Harry went to the forest again. This time, he was quick to temper. He started berating the child on the danger of being alone in the forest. He called the boy and idiot and stubborn for never listened to rules and adult's orders. Harry bit his lips and received the harsh words in silence. He is used with the anger and verbal abuse anyway. The professor went for another ten minutes before he caught himself and apologized to Harry for his sudden burst.

The boy was silent. Snape suddenly felt so bad that he had scold the child. The child only has the best intention, yet Snape was angry with him. So he soothed the boy and asked him to come back tomorrow to Snape's office with the Advance Potion Level one book with him.

Harry agreed and went out. His good mood was lessened considerably, but nevertheless, he understood that the Professor didn't want Harry to die. To improve his mood, Harry ran to the kitchen and presented each of the elves (hundred and twenty of them) the wild flower he plucked and kept fresh with stasis charm Marvolo taught him.

The elves were crying and thanking Harry for the simple present. Apparently it was rare for them to receive gifts from human master. And so they urged Harry to stay and filled himself with many, many treacle tarts, Harry's favourite.

Excusing himself after an hour or so, Harry asked for the roast meat and went away to the girl's toilet on second floor. He was surprised to see a girl ghost standing in front of the sink. It was a girl, pudgy with glasses. And she looks way younger than other ghosts in the castle. She looked at him in suspicion.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"I…" Harry wanted to answer, but she shrieked before he could continue.

"A Slytherin! In my toilet! Oh, how awful!"

And then, she just left the toilet and disappeared through the wall. Harry asked Marvolo what just happened, and Marvolo dismissed it as Harry's imagination. They continued to the chamber, and Harry's good mood returned when Annana thanked him for the roast turkeys.

He spent the whole afternoon reading on top of Annana's coils, while the serpent slept after the good meal. Marvolo started to teach him basic dark spells. He was honestly amazed at Harry's adaptability with magic. So far, Harry has shown his wandless ability for light magic and silent casting some basic dark magic. Harry loved the practical more than the theory anyway, and he spent the entire time transfiguring some rocks into little Golems, and made the Golems danced around him and Annana.

Marvolo watched the childish side of Harry in amusement. Sometimes, he realized that behind the heavy sad wish to die, Harry Potter was just a lonely eleven years old who wanted no more than someone to care and play with. And the little Golems around them showed how strong Harry's power was and what a remarkable control over his magic the boy has. Pity that all the blessed magical children needed to endure hardness in their childhood just because they were too strong. Harry was just like him.

People hated something that they can't explain. People feared something stronger than them. They retaliated in violence and abuse. Magical orphan are always the weakest victims to blame.

Marvolo promised to make them all pay. Who hurts Harry also hurts him.

* * *

The next day, Harry found himself inside Professor Snape's private lab having to brew one of the concotion of his choice from the book. Harry chose the one which looked most interesting; a concoction that would produce any taste depends on the drinker's favourite beverage. Snape didn't argue and started to assist Harry in making it.

Harry felt a bit uptight, as he thought Professor Snape was still mad at him. But the professor said nothing, just slowly guiding him through the process. His cauldron already smelled like chocolate, despite being chalk whitish in colour.

"What do you smell?" Snape suddenly asked.

"Ch..Chocolate, sir."

Snape smiled. Harry was frozen. His teacher never smiled. It felt weird. Snape put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"This concoction is done. You can enjoy it now."

Harry blinked. That was actually quick and informative. He felt like he learnt so much stuff in one day, as Snape slowly explained every single step. He then bottled them into six vials, and put them on top of the table. Snape went back to his brewing, but then he realized the small boy was waiting for his next order. Snape's chest stung, realizing how Harry was trained to always serve and listen to a master. He really should kill those relatives of his. Snape growled.

"You can have them, Harry. You did it a good job for yourself."

Harry blushed, feeling elevated. The Potion Master just praised him! It was a novel thing, and as good as he could get.

"Thank you, sir."

"Do you want to enjoy it here? You can bring them to your dorm and enjoyed there. Either way is fine with me."

"I…" Harry shook his head. He took one of the vials and stretched it towards Professor Snape. "Please have one, sir."

Snape's face paled. He didn't expect Harry to share his concoction with him.

"Thank you, Harry."

The boy smiled. Snape was taken aback by how green the eyes were. Lily's eyes staring at him in happiness.

_Ask him to bring you to Gringotts, Harry._

Harry perked up. he stared at the surprisingly kind Potion Master.

"Sir, can I ask you something…?"

Snape was ready for another chat about life and its meaning, ready to make Harry forget his intense wish to die, when the boy asked the most casual thing:

"Can you bring me to Gringotts soon, Sir? Maybe before summer break?"

'Why, Child? Is there something you need?"

"I… I… well; someone told me I need to check it, just to make sure."

Snape nodded. "I will try and make room for you, Potter. Maybe two weeks from now, weekend?"

Harry thanked the professor repeatedly. Then he excused himself and took the remaining five vials. Snape watched as the boy disappeared from the door.

* * *

He gave three vials to the elves. It was a messy event, actually. Each side insisted that the other should/shouldn't receive/give the gift. In the end Harry asked them to play paper-rock-scissor with him. And because the elves didn't really understand the rules, Harry easily won the contest and gave the vials to the house elves. The elves rewarded him back with many cauldron cakes. Harry enjoyed the cakes and gleefully spent the whole day in the kitchen. Marvolo didn't have the heart to order Harry to study. He let Harry played with the elves and Hedwig (these days Hedwig always come to the kitchen whenever Harry was there. It seemed that one of the elves always brought his owl in whenever Harry came. The bird especially loves when she could enjoy two of her most favourite thing in the world at the same time: her boy and beacons).

It was a single, most wonderful week Harry ever had. He couldn't stop smiling, feeling appreciated and accepted at the same time. Moreover, Professor Snape didn't seem to hate him that much now. Marvolo was always supporting him and Annana likes him. The elves enjoyed his company and Harry felt at ease.

Maybe Hogwarts wasn't as bad as he used to think. Or maybe it was the people who made it bad.

There was one incident about his headmaster that angered Marvolo so much. The old magician once found him in the kitchen, and his blue eyes twinkling when he saw Harry was helping the elves by peeling potatoes. He gave Slytherin 10 points for 'agreeableness', asking Harry whether everything is okay, whether he had liked the 'gift'. Harry answered positively and thanked the headmaster. The headmaster started to engage Harry in conversation about sweets. Unfortunately, since Harry was unaccustomed with rewards like sweets, he couldnt answer much and he had not much opinion about it. Dumbledore left after he failed to make more conversation with the boy. Harry didn't quite catch what was happening, but Marvolo growled loudly in anger.

_He is trying to make you think like a servant, Harry! That old goat, always manipulates people around him so much, he has a God-complex, I tell you._

Holiday ended in that fashion. Marvolo's anger only calmed down when the children came back to the castle. Harry thanked Blaise for the gift and then shared the concoction with his friend. Blaise blushed and they enjoyed the concoction together. Harry's tasted like melted chocolate while Blaise's tasted like lemonade. They laughed and enjoyed themselves at the corner of Slytherin's common room, oblivious to the stares they got.

Blaise was a handsome child by his birth; with his mixed Italian-African traits. His features, added by his family background and wealth, made him uite an attractive boy. Moreover, he was brought up in high pureblood society, so his manners was perfect and gentlemanly. On the other hand, Harry, after being fed continuously by super eager house elves, became healthier looking and glowing. His sweet and adorable built was clearer now for all to see. Also, the clothes that Professor Snape bought for him added up to his looks. All in all, they both enjoyed the night together, even after Draco Malfoy and his bodyguards came and joined them for a series of exploding snap game.

* * *

They have a new DADA professor. It was a kind looking man named Remus Lupin. Harry wasn't really paying attention, because he was busy staring at the wolf beside the man. The wolf seemed like transparent, like a soul. It was greyish in colour, with white belly. The wolf stared at the room, the kids and the ceilings, but after a while he started to notice Harry's stare as well. And it followed Professor Lupin everywhere. It seemed very gentle, and Harry wondered whether he could pat the wolf.

Marvolo read his thought and asked him about it. Harry realized he was the only one who could see the wolf. And he wondered about it for the whole session. Professor Lupin caught his inattentiveness and asked Harry to stay back after class. Flushing from embarrassment, Harry started to pay attention and mastered the jelly-leg jinx by his first try. He was awarded 5 points for it, and Blaise smiled proudly at him even though Blaise was the one Harry jinxed jelly-leg on.

Harry stayed back and walked to his professor desk. He felt like a déjà vu, as he has a similar meeting with Professor Dumbledore before. Dreading what was coming; Harry bit his lip and kept his silence.

"Harry," The man called him. "Why didn't you pay attention just now? Is there any problem?"

Harry shook his head, apologizing in silent. He then saw the wolf was staring at him, two blue eyes staring so close, nose sniffing him. Harry lost his control and showed his hand for the wolf to sniff at. After he was scented, Harry started to pat the wolf. The wolf stiffened under his touch, but soon enough, the wolf became more welcoming to Harry's touch.

"Harry? What are you doing?" The professor paled, feeling something changed within him. The wolf inside him suddenly was purring happily. "Ha..Harry?"

"The wolf likes being patted." Harry smiled gently and scratched its ear. "Is this your pet, sir? Why is it a wolf? And why is it transparent like a ghost? Is this your pet ghost? What's its name?"

"I don't have a pet ghost, Harry. Do you… do you really see a wolf?"

Harry nodded, continued patting the now purring wolf. The beast yipped and wagged its tail like a dog; Harry laughed and scratched it behind the ear. It howled loudly and licked Harry's hand.

"We…well." Professor Lupin stammered. "That is… odd." But he regained his composure, letting Harry go to his next class. As the boy went away, Remus Lupin wondered what happened. His initial wish to talk to the boy about his parents was gone. Yes, Remus was personally requested by Dumbledore to convince Harry that his parents are not drunk-driving idiots, unlike what the boy believes. But now Remus felt afraid that his secrets would be known if he pursued to talk to Harry as much as he planned to do. The boy felt like  _touching_  his inner wolf. He could feel the wolf wagging its tail happily inside him. And the boy admitted to  _see_  a wolf… what happened?

* * *

Days turned to weeks and months. And before he knew it, Harry was having his final examination week. Marvolo refused to help him in exam time, but he made sure that Harry was really prepared, especially for the theory part. Harry spent his time studying, with Blaise and Draco and Crabbe and Goyle in the common room. It was a silent agreement in Slytherin that whenever it was exam time, common room should be silent until the pin drop sound. Everybody was diligently preparing themselves, because the ambitious house always prepared themselves for the worst.

Sometimes the first year girls joined them; and Harry was glad for it. Daphne Greengrass was the smartest in Astronomy; her knowledge about stars rivalled or maybe even surpassed Granger's. Tracy Davis, on the other hand, was a natural in charms theory, as she was better than Harry in theory, but not in practical. Pansy Parkinson was the single most disruptive of their study group with her biting comments and the urge to always complain when she couldn't understand something. Draco acted like her handler—they were engaged to be married anyway and by the engagement law the girl needed to listen to everything the Malfoy's heir said.

Harry started to become popular when other kids realized how good he was in practical. But Harry didn't know how to teach though, and that made him quite useless in the group study. He tried his best, by showing them how to do it in his own way. Yet he didn't realize that it was harder for others to understand as they didn't have Harry's level of magical power.

The exam passed in peaceful manner, with Harry being unable to answer some of history questions and managed to finally re-potted his plants in herbiology but excelled in his DADA, transfiguration and charms practicals. His matchstick turned into a baseball bat, much to the surprise of Professor McGonagall, as it was almost impossible for a first year to transfigure things into bigger, and more complicated object. Harry also made the ball levitated and swirled around him in charms, and then added with some objects in Professor Flitwick's examination room to make a puppet show starring 'the red ball and the big bad book' complete with his narration and sound effects. The small professor felt down from his chair when he saw what Harry could do with the balls and objects. Professor Lupin, on the other hand, was very impressed when Harry could curse him with a jelly-leg curse. The kind professor was even more baffled when he realized he couldn't cancel the jinx himself; in the end it was Harry who gave the counter spell.

The day exams ended, all students went to the Lake to wind up. Marvolo, however, dragged Harry to the Chamber of Secret.

_It's time. We need to move soon. Especially since Dumbly is not here._

"How do you know?" Harry asked, intrigued. Marvolo seemed to know everything.

_I have my own ways._

* * *

I try to cut it short. I am not big in details. Meh. Also, thank you for expressing the like for the name. Annana sounds gentle, no?

Thank you very much for reviews, although it seemed like the last chapter doesnt really gather enthusiasm as much as the others. Well, next chapter will get Harry back on track. This chapter is out because I feel that the boy deserves a bit of normality and happiness as a kid. Especially with Voldemort looking after him. Yet, I need to warn you this MIGHT end up as slash. MAYBE.

Review?

 


	7. Chapter 7

This is what makes the story rated as M. PLEASE DONT CONTINUE if you cannot accept the concept of child abuse (both violence and sexual).

Thank you for the review, and I perfectly understand if you decide to stop reading after this chapter.

Please read with care.

* * *

Harry wondered where they were going. He grabbed Annana's body as tight as he could, as the serpent passed through every nook and cranny of slimy pipes. It was lucky that Harry was small and slim; so he could squeezed himself inside the pipes while still hanging on Annana. The slime hung on his body, making it greenish and sticky. Harry hold tight, despite the nauseating smell and dirtiness.

Marvolo was guiding Annana, and Harry was mediating it, but all he spoke was about direction ( _left, right, up, down, to your eft, etc.)_ and so Harry could only guessed where they were going.

Finally they reached a place that looked like a dead end. Annana hissed and bumped herself to the wall. The rock started to fall down and Annana slide down, with Harry on her body, feeling like he was playing roller coaster, although he never knew such amusement exists.

"Whee!"

His gleeful scream was cut short when he heard a growl. Harry looked up to see the three headed dogs he saw in the third level corridor. Oh, Harry realized that they were in the forbidden corridor. The dog snarled viciously at him and Annana; but suddenly it became silent and dropped on the floor, frozen.

What happened? Harry was very amused.

_The only living thing immune to Annana's sight is Parseltongue Speaker._

So the dog died. Harry frowned. And here he thought he could charm the dog back into its normal size and take care of it like a pet.

_You never amused me, child. You have the tendency to be Hagrid the second._

Harry didn't understand what Marvolo meant. He hasn't meet Hagrid for a long time now. Hagrid was the person who introduced him to the Diagon Alley, true, but they never met again afterward.

_Shush. Now, go inside the trap door._

Annana hissed in agreement and Harry opened the trap door. It was dark inside, but he hung onto Annana and went in. Another jet-coaster like movement making Harry feel like his stomach is up to his mouth. "Wheeee!"

Then some tendrils came around them, trying to grab them. Harry felt a bit scared but mostly amused. Maybe this is why the Headmaster said this place gives a painful death. There was a three headed dog; and now a living, moving plant. Maybe this plant eats human as well? Carnivore? Yet when he saw the tendrils, he remembered that the plant was something he saw in the herbiology lesson with Professor Sprout. It was the Devil's Snare.

_Good, child. Think. What should we do now?_

Harry wondered, while the plant slowly wrapped him and Annana. The serpent tried to twist her way out, and since she was so strong, she half succeeded. But Harry took his time (he didn't mind dying anyway) and he  _thinks_.

"Lumos!" Harry suddenly shouted, realizing that the Devil Snare hates light. Due to his excitement, he forgot to control his power. Harry's wand produced a source of light as bright as the sun, and it blinded him for a while. He felt his body dropped onto the carpeted floor, with Annana already at the bottom.

_:That was unnecessarily bright, Harry.:_ Annana hissed in irritation.  _:I am quite blind now.:_

_Relax, Annana, you'll get normal back soon._

Harry nodded, although his eyes were also still twinkling in so many colours. After adjusting themselves, they realized that they were in a room with ridiculously high ceilings painted like the sky, with so many birds flying around them. Harry observed nearer and the birds were not birds, they were flying keys.

_This must be Flitwick's. Harry, grab a key that suit the door._

Harry observed the door by the other end and decided the lock should be big and with complicated teeth. He looked around, amused by the sight where Annana tried to kill all the keys with her eyes, but since the keys weren't living things; they continued fly around her. She then resorted to be the beast she was, showing her fangs and tried to bite every single key that came near her.

_Ignore her. She is having fun. Grab those brooms, Harry._

"But I never fly." Harry frowned. Marcus Flint promised him a flying lesson, but so far he didn't get one. The sixth year seemed busy with his school stuff and the final quidditch match which would be held today.

_I'll teach you. Say Up!_

"Up!" Harry shouted and two brooms stuck in his either hands. Marvolo laughed hard and told him he only needed one. Harry blushed in embarrassment, and mounted the broom on his right hand side. "What's next, Marvolo?"

_Then fly._

What? Harry was sceptical for a second, but his broom took control and they went up, high. Harry felt like he was squeezed in a tube, being in such speed up, but it was also fun. Flying is awesome! Harry touched the broom and it responded in the way Harry wanted. After adapting himself to flying, Harry started his search on the key. An old key with complicated teeth. Harry went around and around. He finally spotted the said key on top of one of the branches on the ceilings, so he went there and grabbed the key. It flied down, trying to avoid Harry's hand. Yet Harry was faster, and he landed down with the key on his hand.

After opening the door and hold onto Annana's body again, they slide through to the next room. It was dimmed, but a huge chessboard was blocking their way to the next door. One of the black pieces suddenly bowed down to them, as if asking Harry and Annana to play with them. Marvolo ordered both Annana and Harry to take the place of the queen.

Harry watched in amusement as the play go. Marvolo's movements were amazing. One by one he took the white pieces away. Then suddenly Marvolo ordered the queen piece (where Annana and Harry were on) to go straight till the end of the board. It was just a straight line, like the scene of Moses parting the Dead Sea.

Annana slide (with Harry on top of her) through the board. They didn't win the chess match, Marvolo stated. Marvolo played just so that they could pass through to the other side of the board. The door opened in front of them, and as Annana and Harry slide in, they were welcomed with foul smell, rivalling those of rotten garbage and the greenish pipe slime.

A roar was heard and Harry saw a huge, huge Giant. Harry's eyes opened wide in surprise. It was his first time seeing the magical creature face to face. They look fine, it was just their body odour was too unbearable.

_It's a troll, Child. Not a giant._

"What's the different?" Harry asked, as the troll came nearer to them.

_They used to have some magical traits and they can swim. But nowadays trolls are stupider than giants. Well, and also smaller._

Harry tilted his head, waiting for the troll. The troll saw them, and stopped in his place. It was dead.

_Annana! Don't kill him! I was thinking of maybe playing with him for a while?_ Harry hissed in frustration.

Annana hissed back in amusement.  _Sorry. I can't control my sight. I am too strong, Harry._

Harry pouted, but he held on when Annana passed through the next door. Once they went in, the door suddenly closed and two fires erupted around them.

Annana hissed in surprise because she hated close contact with fire (although she loves the heat). Harry climbed down, and sensing Annana's distress, he asked the snake whether she wanted to stay in her pocket for a while until they passed the room.

Annana agreed, and Marvolo taught Harry how to minimize Annana into a smaller serpent. Harry then put Annana on his arms, letting the now-very small snake-wrapped around his left arm.

He then looked around to see some potions. And a poem.

_Never know he likes to make poems as well,_ Marvolo laughed inside Harry's head. Harry concluded that the maker of the room was Professor Snape. He then looked around and after Marvolo deciphered what Harry supposed to do, the boy took one of the vial, and drunk it all.

He passed through the fire, while holding Annana tight because she didn't drink the potion. They passed through while Annana grumbled of almost being a 'grilled snake'. They then arrived into a room, a bigger and brighter room than the others, to find a mirror in the middle of the room. The mirror looked old and antique, standing proudly, almost touching the ceilings.

Marvolo commented on how childish the traps were, and a first year could pass through the whole traps with no problem. Dumbledore must have thinking of the traps so that Harry could pass through, and although Marvolo didn't know why, he suspected that the old goat was preparing his little 'weapon'. Harry just silent as he listened and he started to understand how cunning an adult could be, not only they always wanted to hurt him, they also wanted to manipulate his power. Harry wasn't sure whether it was because of Marvolo's influence or his own thinking, but Dumbledore became a kind of evil figure in his head.

When Harry stepped in, he read 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on whosi'. Thinking that it might be a weird spell, Harry chanted the words, and suddenly the mirror brightened as if it was a living thing. Somekind of old magic was activated and it permeated through the air. Harry felt the sparkles and wondered why magic is quite similar to electricity sometimes. Annana hissed in irritation, but she was still hidden in Harry's sleeve. The serpents then asked Harry to return her size back; which Harry compelled with. Harry looked upon the mirror, and he saw an old man, older than Dumbledore, with sad eyes but overall he looked like a sage.

_**You called me?** _

Harry nodded, and the mirror sighed.

_**It's been hundreds of years since someone this young actually have the power to call me. Who are you, child?** _

"Harry, sir. Harry Potter."

_**Well, what is your wish, then? Please don't ask weird narcissist thing like what the last queen were asking. I am not here to be a mirror for your outer appearance; I am here to be a mirror that grants you a wish.** _

"A wish, sir?"

_**A wish with enough power exchange. I usually just show your innermost desire, but if you are strong enough to grant me a power return, I can make your wish come true.** _

Harry stopped thinking. His mind returned to the past, his horrible memories being a slave and unwanted guest in the Dursley's house. He remembered his drunk driving parents. He remembered his classmates' hateful expression. He remembered the bully from Gryffindor and the gossips from Hufflepuff. He remembered the letter incident. He remembered the disappointment and embarrassment. He remembered the kidnapping. He remembered the beatings from his uncle. He remembered his uselessness and unworthiness.

The mirror said it could grant his wish. Harry's ultimate wish, which everybody stopped him from getting it, is death.

"I want dea…" His words were cut short when suddenly Marvolo came forward and controlled his body. Marvolo had known what Harry would ask, and he would never let the child have it. And so, it's better to blew up his cover than to risk Harry being dead. Also, he knew it was a trap for him anyway, Dumbledore must know how the mirror got its power from. The Mirror of Erised is a magical mirror which showed the innermost desire. But the mirror doesn't have its own magical core, so it needs to get an energy source from outside. Usually it absorbed the energy of any wizard/witch who has very powerful magical core. By putting the stone inside the mirror, Dumbledore gave Voldemort two choices: leave without the stone, or get the stone and sacrifice his own power. Marvolo was sure the reason Dumbledore wasn't able to feel him inside Harry's head was because of Dumbledore's weakened state. But the old fool had a mistake: he was inside Harry's body, and it would be Harry's power that the mirror would absorb.

" _I want the Philosopher Stone."_

The sage in the mirror looked surprised and he was smiling in amusement.

_**You are not the child. Who are you? Why are there two people inside one?** _

" _It's not your problem. Just give me the Philosopher Stone."_

_**Sorry. Without power, I cannot give you anything. You are quite powerless now. Maybe when you returned to your real body, you can call me. Now, I only listen to the child.** _

Marvolo frowned. He couldn't let the child handle this. Harry's power would be absorbed by the mirror. The problem was that Harry was still a boy. His magical core was still growing. By giving the mirror his power, Harry might lose or damage his magical core. And once you called the mirror, it wouldn't let you go until you gave it a bargain. Marvolo knew it was a win-win situation for him: Harry either dead or became a squib and he got the stone. But somehow he just couldn't let the child lost his magic. Harry has survived solely because of his magic. Without it, Marvolo knew Harry would die in matter of weeks, due to the boy's suicidal tendency. And he was back to the main question: why did he care so much for the orphaned boy?

While he was contemplating his choices, his energy grew weaker, and the unicorn blood wasn't enough to sustain his control over Harry anymore. Harry snapped back and forced Marvolo returned to his place in the back of Harry's head. The boy then looked straight at the mirror, eyes staring in absolute conviction.

"I want death, sir."

The mirror grimaced.  _ **Sorry, my child. If you die, then I cannot take your power. You need to ask for something else.**_

Harry bit his lower lips in disappointment. Even the mirror rejected his wish! What is the problem with people? What was so bad about letting him die? But now wasn't the right time to woe about himself. He needed to ask for something else. They were here for the Philosopher Stone. Marvolo wanted him to live and Marvolo wanted the Philosopher Stone. So Harry asked for the Stone.

The mirror nodded and showed Harry the stone, carefully putting it into his pocket. Immediately, Harry felt something heavy and alive on his pocket. The stone pulsated like a heart, slowly but sure. It even generated heat.

_**Then I will take your power as an exchange.** _

Harry immediately felt his power drained so much. His legs buckled and he went down onto the floor before losing his consciousness.

* * *

When Harry was awake, he realized he was inside his Professor's room.

The last thing he remembered was having the Stone in his pocket and now he woke up on a bed. He wondered what happened. He sniffed himself and found a bit of smell left; but overall he was clean. It was the second time he woke up there, the first being after he went to the Chamber of Secret. He looked around and found that there was nobody.

_Marvolo?_  He asked, but he was answered by silence.  _Annana?_

Harry called him again. No answer. Harry checked his robes and the stone wasn't inside his pocket anymore. Strange. The stone was missing. He was sure it was inside his pocket. Maybe Marvolo knew about it. So Harry called Marvolo again.

Well, no answer. Maybe Marvolo was sleeping. So Harry tried again. He closed his eyes and called in his head, but Marvolo wasn't there.

"Marvolo?" He asked louder, barely a whisper, but still he called out. "Annana, Marvolo?"

He was starting to feel desperate. "Marvolo?"

Still no answer, still silence.

Then a realization hit him. Maybe Marvolo had left him. The professor has gotten the Stone, and now Harry was useless. And Marvolo didn't even kill Harry before he left…

He remembered that Marvolo was still inside him even after the unicorn meeting. He said he was just tired. So Marvolo might be still inside Harry's head, just tired and hiding. A part of him cried in disbelief and forced himself to be uncharacteristically positive. So Harry closed his eyes, and trying to call Marvolo with his magic. And then he was welcomed by an empty space. When he tried to go further, he stumbled inside his mind. He shivered. He felt so weak, and even though he tried to call his magic, nothing came.

And no matter how long, how much, how desperate he became, his calls were never returned. Marvolo wasn't there anymore. He had left.

He left Harry alone.

His chest started to throb, just like before Christmas.

Marvolo  _left_  him.

He was alone again.

It was painful. Marvolo left him… because Harry was useless. He was alone again now, and the Hogwarts Express will take him back to the Dursley. Harry had secretly hoped that Marvolo would take him someplace else, where they could be together and he could help Marvolo gained his body back. Or maybe Marvolo would take him as a servant. Harry didn't mind, as long as he was still with Marvolo. Marvolo was the only person who actually helped him and protected him, and always be with him for almost the whole year. But Marvolo has left him; just like what his parent did. They died because they didn't want Harry around. And so did Marvolo.

He couldn't bring himself to blame Marvolo. He knew it was his,  _Harry's_ , problem. It always happened. People left him because he was useless, the 'freak'. Then he realized that he couldn't call his magic either. It was gone. The warmth that was inside his body was gone. It was now empty and cold.

He has lost everything.

"Are you awake, Potter?" Professor Snape entered the room. He saw the child, pale and eyes like dead fish. Snape blinked and prepared himself for a gentle interrogation. He found the boy unconscious in front of his door again, but this time the boy wasn't sleeping. He was so dirty and smelled like hell. So Snape cleaned him up and checked Harry's health. Despite having no injury, Harry's magical core was dangerously low, almost matching those of a squib's.

The boy nodded, and hurriedly moved out from the bed as if he was afraid. Snape grimaced. The boy looked so weak and lost. "What are you doing, child?"

"I am sorry sir, for using the bed. I am fine on the floor, sir. I will clean up better, sir."

"Potter… Harry, don't be ridiculous. You are hurt and you need a rest. Tell me what happened? Why is your magical core so strained that it almost gone?"

"My magic… is gone..?" Harry asked weakly. So he was right. He has lost his power. He was not a 'freak' anymore! And it should be a good thing, yet he felt sad. Maybe Marvolo left him because Harry lost his magic. Marvolo hates 'muggles' so much, and now that Harry is a 'muggle', he left him.

"It's alright child. We can treat it… but I am not sure when it will be back. Do you want to eat anything? But please tell me what happened, why are you covered in slime and why does your magic depleted so much?"

"S…Sir, I… if I lost my magic, then I won't be able… to attend this school anymore, right?"

"Harry…" Snape sighed and kneeled down before the child. The child was biting his lower lips, trying to hold the tears in. "It is not that simple. I know you don't feel great about the school, but you will recover, Child. Trust me."

Harry wanted to laugh. It was like the exact reverse. He used to hate the school and magic because it caused him more pain than the Dursley. But now, after meeting Marvolo and Blaise and Professor Snape and Annana and the house elves, he started to feel accepted. And now, as if God was saying Harry doesn't deserve any good thing, he took away Marvolo and his magic power. God took every of Harry's happiness because… because he was the 'bad guys'. The bad guys deserved to die. The bad guys are always lost and sad and evil. Freak. Like him.

He lost his magic. That means Harry wasn't welcome inside the castle or the school anymore. He would need to return to his relatives' house. He would need to leave Blaise and the elves behind. He even lost Annana. After being nice and friendly for half a year… everything will be lost in vain. Nobody would want him. Nobody wanted a child without magic here. They would throw him back to the Dursley because Harry has nobody else to go to. The Dursley didn't want him as well, but they were stuck with him because of blood.

How funny that he thought he was accepted here. In the world of magic.

His chest throbbed so hard, it was hurting so much.

Yet he couldn't cry. He knew it was his fault. So he shouldn't cry. He doesn't deserve a cry either.

* * *

Harry never wanted to die so much as he was feeling now.

After arriving on the Platform 9 ¾ with the Express, he went back to the muggle side of the train station. He said goodbye to Blaise and Draco, wishing them well. Blaise looked at him funnily, but Harry wasn't very talkative ever since he returned from Professor Snape's quarters. They left him alone, and Harry felt the silent was more fitting for his last day in the magical world.

He then met his uncle—who was, weirdly, waiting for Harry alone without Aunt Petunia or Dudley—standing in front of the station. His uncle was uncharacteristically silent, and so was Harry (whom always silent). They sat on the car, and Harry watched as the cars and houses and parks passed by. They almost reached Privet Drive when suddenly his uncle changed direction. He looked like he was constipated, and Harry knew his uncle was thinking of something. Whatever it was, it would never be good one for Harry.

The boy didn't care, though. Now that his relatives are the ones who would accept him, Harry knew he should do everything to make them happy. And if his uncle wanted him to do something new, he was fine with it.

They drove to a deserted part of the big park, and Uncle Vernon parked under the tree, away from the eyes of public. He then looked at Harry, who was sitting beside driver's seat, and grabbed the boy's hair roughly while opening his own pant's zipper.

Harry was surprised and he didn't realize what was happening when suddenly his face was pushed down—just to find Uncle Vernon's penis on his lips.

"Suck, boy." His uncle growled. "If you do well, I won't tell your auntie and you'll get food tonight."

Harry was speechless; his mind blank. He didn't understand what was happening. But he knew that it was wrong. He shouldn't do it. He shouldn't.

But if he didn't do it, who would take care of him? Now that everybody won't let him die, then he needed to stay alive and staying alive meant he needs to have somebody taking care of him… right? Food, shelter and clothes. He needed all those. He needed his relatives' mercy. He should do it.

He didn't realize that he was probably the only first year in Slytherin that year that ever needs to think where his next meal would come from.

And he started to suck. It was… disgusting. Harry didn't know which disgust him more, his uncle's smelly thing or his own mouth, who followed meekly as his uncle grabbed and pushed his hair to induce friction. His uncle warned Harry against biting his 'stuff'. Harry's hair were in pain from the harsh grab, his hips and back were in pain from the weird angle, but his chest… his chest was the most painful.

_Marvolo… helped me._

But of course, he got no answer. Finally it ended, and Harry was forced to drink the liquid. It smelled and tasted like rotten fish. Like the troll. Like the slime. It was sliding down his throat, settling uncomfortably inside his stomach. And Harry was dirty.

His uncle started the engine and they drove back to Privet Drive. Harry kept his silent, and when he arrived he took his stuff, and then went straight to his cupboard under the stairs. He vomited everything inside him before he reached the cupboard, and he knew he would be whipped for it, but now, he couldn't care less. He went inside the cupboard and slammed it close.

He curled on his cot. He wanted to die so much. But how? He knew Marvolo had left him, but he still will keep his promise. And Harry is now so dirty anyway, he knew his parents won't love him anymore. Even if Harry was dead. He is now both a 'freak' and dirty. He was useless. He was worthless. Death was not an option anymore. He needs to live in the living hell. All in all, it was his own fault.

He sobbed to his cot in silence. Hogwarts was a nice dream. So nice.

So nice.

* * *

Meanwhile, Snape was making a mental note in his mind. Harry's visit to Gringotts was postponed until the summer holiday. Snape had apologized to the boy stating that he has so many things to do and he couldn't bring Harry out from the castle. He didn't tell Harry the actual reason: Dumbledore refused to give Harry a day outings, especially when he knew where Harry wanted to go. Something was fishy, and Snape didn't want to make unnecessary conflict.

Harry's explanation of why he was unconscious and covered in slime was a prank. He said he fell into a hole and he just fainted until he woke up inside Snape's bedroom. But Snape knew the boy was lying. He couldn't see it, the boy's expressionless face was hard to read; but Snape's instinct was crying something else. Something must have had happened. And the boy believed that he was now a muggle, incapable for using magic, and thus, not welcome anymore. The boy was happy these few months, and yet a night changed it back into the depressed child he met back in Harry's first detention.

Silly child, of course. He was the saviour, and even though the wizarding world was stupid and selfish, they would still want the symbol of win against the Dark Lord near. Thus, the professor waited until the middle of the summer holiday to go to Privet Drive and took Harry to Gringotts. That way, Dumbledore wouldn't realize what happened. But the recent event made him changed his mind and he would go to Harry's place sooner.

Though how soon the visit would be, Snape wasn't really sure.

* * *

If you still think you want to read the continuation, then I want to ask your opinion: Snape or Voldemort?

Thank you for reading and staying with this story.

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

Thank you so much for the reviews. By the way. Voldemort wins hands down. Snape are elected as a father/mentor figure. Well, I intend to use the poll result to decide who would save Harry, but your reviews give me another outlines of ideas. Wonderful, Thank you so much.  


The 'want both!' choice made me smile. wow, threesomes yes?

But the slash will need to wait, yes? Harry is still a boy, yes?

Is having mid-sem exams. Very grouchy now. Needs more support.

Enjoy!

* * *

Some days has passed. Harry couldn't be bothered to count. His mind was busy hiding behind the thick barrier in his head as his body were whipped, kicked and scolded upon.

He was whipped several times for vomiting on the floor. Then he was kicked for being unable to cook the perfect breakfast the next morning—Harry woke up late, too late for his aunt's standard anyway. And then he forgot to clean the backyard—and that earned him another twenty lashes from his uncle.

He was thankful that so far his uncle hadn't ordered him to do anything like last time. Harry preferred the kick and whips compared to those. He just hated it so much, the taste, the feeling as it entered his mouth that nowadays he couldn't stomach any food; as everything tasted like  _those stuff._

From the kick and beating he got for breaking Duddley's pen (The 'big-boned' boy intentionally throw the pen, aiming at Harry's eyes but instead marred Harry's cheek with blue ink, and fell to the floor. The pen then ceased to produce ink, so Duddley told his mother that Harry has broken his pen), Harry got half swollen face. His right face was blue in black; and his eyes were hidden under swollen eyelids. Truthfully, he didn't look like half a human right now. Dudley even looked away in disgust, and a bit of fear.

Harry knew that now his magic was lost, his injury wouldn't be healed. And it was there for everyone to see: just by the five days Harry has been there, his skins were in various colours but his natural pale white. The boy walked in stagger; sometimes needed to support himself with the wall, while walking slowly to do his next chores. The Dursley realized, after those five days, that Harry wasn't as resilient as he was before. Before, Harry's ability to heal made him returned to perfect every morning; now Harry still carried the marks of abuse he got from previous days. For that, they actually felt scared from being found; and they lessened their harsh treatment and gave Harry a bit more food, like a toast extra in the morning.

On the other hand, Harry couldn't feel the pain. It seemed that with so many pain, his brain just gave up and instead focusing on hiding Harry's mind behind the thick barrier. Harry also refused to see himself in the mirror. He hadn't headed for bath for the last two days as his aunt forbid him to take a bath inside the house; for fear Harry bringing in 'fleas' and 'diseases'. So he took his shower outside, carefully washing his wounds and skin. And when he did, his eyes always wondered around, searching for any snakes. He missed Annana so much. He wanted to talk with her again.

His robes and books were taken forcedly by Dudley when Harry was repacking his stuff and the boy thought it was funny to burn them. Harry watched in sadness as the robes from Professor Snape and his school books burnt to ash. His other stuff was secured inside his trunk, which he hid in the further end under his cot. Dudley was too fat to reach in. He released Hedwig the next day he arrived, telling the sweet bird to stay in Hogwarts. Harry was sure the elves would welcome Hedwig as their pet. He slipped a note to them, asking their help to take care of Hedwig for him. And it was the best decision, because his uncle threatened Harry that if Hedwig was around the Privet Drive, the bird would be grilled.

And so, Harry returned to the days in Privet Drive. Nothing changed much, and Harry was thankful for it. At least he still had a roof on top of his head. He had lost his appetite and ability to eat; also Duddley's hands-me-downs were big enough to cover his whole body without using pants. Harry even used it as a mop when his blood stained the floor after a whipping session. The only act that made him smile was when he touched the chocolate frog from Blaise and the porcelain mug from the elves. They were securely tucked inside his trunk, and Harry took them out each night just to remind himself of the good dream in Hogwarts. His chest throbbed in pain when he did that, but Harry was already in constant pain level anyway, so the boy didn't care.

Yes, at least he still has a roof on top of his head.

* * *

Two weeks from the start of Summer Holiday, Serverus Snape apparated in front of the house he knew so well from childhood. Lily's house. It looked like what it was—except colder. The garden used to be wild and full of blooming life; now it was bare with carefully cut grass. The house used to be lovely in soft colours; but now it was purely white, as if it was the showcase house.

He knocked on the door, firmly, twice.

"Yes?" The door was opened after five minutes and Snape faced Lily's dearest sister Petunia. The woman looked like she was preparing for TV-shows, with her pristine suits and pearl necklace. But her face turned sour when she saw Snape. "You!"

"Yes, me." Snape sneered. He still has the common sense to dress like a muggle, with a shirt and blazer. He knew that if he dressed like a wizard he was, Petunia would have a heart attack on the spot. "I am here for Potter."

"He…" Petunia's face paled. "He is not here. He is going away to his friend's house."

If Snape didn't know better, he would have believed the bluff; but he knew Harry and the boy didn't seem like the type who as popular enough to have so many friends to go to. He sneered again. "Don't lie, woman, and I won't hurt you."

Petunia stammered. "Che..Check for yourself."

Snape invited himself inside. "Where is his room?"

"It's… It's on the second floor, the furthest bedroom to the left."

Snape didn't reply and went up, counting the door and went to the last door. He opened it and found a very messy room filled with broken junks and a bed. It looked bare and resembled those of storages rather than a room. It might be Harry's room, but somehow Snape couldn't believe the woman. So he took out his wand and cast the detecting charm.

His wand pointed down, to the stairs. Snape followed, and he was truly shocked when his wand pointed to the door under the stairs. His mind was in disbelief, and he opened the room. It was dark, so Snape turned on the light.

The smell was a bit unbearable, but not of those old cleaning supply storages, but those of untreated wounds, blood and vomit. He looked around to see the evidence of Harry being there: the wall was clean, but there was a small childish writing, saying  _Harry's room_  in the middle of it. A trunk was carefully placed under the cot, and suddenly a head appeared on the cot out of nowhere.

Snape was horrified when he saw Harry. The boy turned back to him to show a half swollen face, with blue and black marks on his other cheek. The boy moved and Snape realized Harry was hiding under the invisibility cloak. When the whole cloak opened up, he saw a painfully thin body covered in rags and bloodied cloths.

"Pro…fessor?"

"YOU!" Snape growled loudly, and with murderous intent he went back to the kitchen where Petunia cowed behind a chair. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!"

Petunia cowered and kept her silent. But her eyes showed defiance, as if she was hiding because she knew how bad Snape's anger was, not because she was ashamed of herself for treating her own nephew like that. Snape's temper grew hotter and he threw a cutting hex towards the woman, just inches from where she was standing. The perfect kitchen floor exploded from the spell's power, and Petunia looked back in dismay.

Snape turned and saw that the small boy was looking at him emotionlessly.

"Professor Snape… why are you here?"

"I am… I am here to take you to Gringotts, Harry. But I think we need to go to St Mungo first."

"What is that, sir?"

"It's a wizarding hospital."

Harry stared at Snape. "Why, sir?"

"Don't you see the state you are in, now? Harry, don't walk, I will carry you there. We will apparate."

"I am fine, sir. It's always like this, why does it matter now?"

Snape paled. His suspicion was true. The boy was thoroughly abused until he didn't realize he was abused anymore. And since Harry's magical core was so low, the healing ability was not as active as it should be.

"You are hurt, Harry. We need to treat your injuries first."

Harry looked down. "But I don't have magic anymore, sir. I don't think it is wise to go back to magical world…"

"Silly child." Snape refused to hear more than that, and he swiftly took over Harry's body. Harry winced a bit, but Snape didn't want to waste time and accio'ed Harry's stuffs. He made them smaller, put it in his pocket. "Where is your other stuff, Harry? I can only call your trunk and cloak."

Harry whispered. "That's all I have, sir. Hedwig is in Hogwarts right now."

Snape's chest pained. He knew that tone. It was embarrassment. He used to feel that too, when he first entered Hogwarts. Between the rich purebloods, his stuffs were the cheapest and rags, although it was the best his mother could afford. The embarrassment when he needed to admit to Lucius Malfoy that his stuff were 'Just that' was mortifying.

So he silently took Harry out, trying as hard as he could to make Harry comfortable before warning the boy and apparated outside the barrier of Privet Drive.

* * *

It became a sensation.

There were several factors, including but not limited to the facts that (1) Harry was very famous, as the boy-who-lived, (2) Child abuse is a huge scandal in magical world which was facing problems from inbreeding and (3) The boy was such in severe condition even the healers were crying in rage when they saw Harry's state (even before they knew Harry was  _the_  Harry Potter).

Minister Fudge was threatened by the howlers sent to him the day that news leaked to the public. Every single one of them demanded a better treatment for Harry, and for Fudge to find justice. Who did it? Which muggle? Who was the boy's magical guardian? And somehow the sensation was enough to jeopardize the statute of sercrecy and muggle protection act. People started to wonder, are muggles deserve the protection? Which one was more dangerous? Wizards or muggles?

The Muggle protection act undergoes a review and some proposals to change, or completely erased that act turned up in Winzengamot. And to safe his political face, Fudge acted fast for once. He signed aurors to find out what happened. He was trying to safe himself, since he was one of the parties against the muggle protection act (courtesy to Lucius Malfoy's advice). He needed to secure some of the proof and facts before Dumbledore, the muggle lover politician, reverse the order like he always did. Just to add cherry on top of the cake, Albus Dumbledore came on top of the list as Harry's magical guardian, as well as his supposed welfare officer. It was unusual, so investigation was taken further and it was revealed that Dumbledore was the one who left the boy 'in a safest place on earth' ten years ago. He was proven to be directly responsible for Harry Potter's injury and abuse; and he is reviewed for majority of Winzengamot viewed him as unfit to be their head anymore.

Public's anger and rage shifted towards Dumbledore. The headmaster received more howlers than he ever did in his long life, as well as cold treatment from his professors and rage from Serverus Snape. For once, Minerva McGonagall and Serverus Snape were on the same page, demanding answers from the headmaster.

Then the next day, somehow Rita Skeeter got the news of who Harry's' relatives were. And there was another shocking news, when they found the house deserted, with a corpse of a completely blood-drained man hung on the wall. His condition was so severe and the only reason why they recognized him as Vernon Dursley was because of his face autopsy. Most of the Wizarding World cheered to this, thanking Merlin for the retribution. But Dumbledore was worried. The ward has gone, and from the magical signature, it was a bit like Tom Riddle. It definitely not Tom's magic, but he could sense traces of Tom's style in it. Maybe Tom possessed someone and used their magic instead of his own magic.

That aside, Harry was overwhelmed with the attention he was given. The medical attention was helpful, and he realized how good it was not being in constant pain. His face was still swollen since it has been quite long, and his right eye completely shut from the prolonged swollen condition and scar tissues. The healers decided to soften the scar tissue and bandaged half his face with soaked herbs before preceded to a more detailed surgery. His body was another matter altogether. Madam Pomfrey sent Harry's personal data from Hogwarts' health files, and acts were taken accordingly. The ribs were broken in places and Harry's hip was fractured, that's why the boy walked in wobble. Furthermore, his ankle was badly twisted. Not to mention his arms being so brittle as he lacked the nutrients and was burdened with so many chores. His muscles and infected skin were treated immediately with spells and potions, so it wasn't a huge problem. Last but not least were his internal organs. Harry's body has adapted with the low diet and hard work until his stomach visibly shrunk. His heart was strained until the walls became very thin, and weaker than normal. His lungs were filed with blood and fluids from internal bleeding while his kidney almost completely shutdown. His liver tried to regenerate itself for the heavy duty it was given but was prevented by the lack of nutrition.

The full list was even longer, and Harry became the single worst nightmare in St Mungo's surgery department. Everyday Harry was sent into one surgery, either for his eye, bones or organs. The boy looked like he couldn't care less, never speak out unless he was directly asked, and never gives reaction to any stimuli. Moreover, his magical core was quite low, although it has grown up since the last time Snape measured it. Some mind healers were itching to get their hands on Harry, as they argued the boy suffered even worse mental injury than his body. But the surgery department wouldn't let Harry go before he was fully physically healed, so they waited with anxiety.

Yet nobody realized the symptoms of anorexia Harry was showing, addressing the lack of appetite (and Harry's inability to keep down inside his stomach) as effects from the heavy surgeries and pain. However, the nutrition potions sustained the small body for the mean time and thus, nobody realized that was something gravely wrong about Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes to see another set of healers, Professor Snape and the headmaster beside his bed.

"Are you awake, Harry?" The headmaster asked in his grandfatherly tone.

Harry nodded a bit, for his head was still heavy from the pain relieve potion.

"We are here to assess your condition, Harry." One of the healers told the boy. "Your headmaster; or the  _magical guardian_ ,"—sarcasm was thick on her tone, "requested to move you to Hogwarts for further treatment. I suggest you think against it, Harry, because it is better that you have full 24 hours access of care. Madam Pomfrey is an excellent healer; however she couldn't be responsible for you 24 hours a day."

"Now, now, Healer Turpin, don't be ruthless. Madam Pomfrey is very capable of handling Harry. She has been a healer for Hogwarts children for a decade now. Harry, what do you think? You are not safe here; Hogwarts can give you more protection."

Harry tilted his head. "…Why? Why do I need protection? How about the Dursley?"

Dumbledore looked ashamed on that, and everybody in the room became tense. They knew the name, and although they never seen Harry's uncle, the news of his death was well known throughout the wizarding world. Dumbledore felt the pressure to tell Harry the news about his relatives, but he didn't want to burden the boy as yet, so instead he addressed the other problem.

"Because Voldemort is still a threat, Harry." Dumbledore answered kindly, while most of the wizards and witches in the room cringed when they heard the name.

"A threat? How?"

"He… He might hurt you, child."

"I can take it, headmaster. I am used to pain. I can take more than this. I am already healed anyway. Why not the Dursley? Didn't you say I have the best protection there? Isn't it why you left me there?"

The room was silent. Some healers were angered by the answer, how Harry was used to pain, showing how bad he was treated in the past. And Harry's answer further confirmed that Dumbledore was the one left him with those horrible people. The others cringed because they wouldn't in their right mind classify Harry as 'healed'. And Snape was not amused as he noticed how insensitive Dumbledore was. But Dumbledore continued, showing his ignorance of Harry's past history and that he, Albus Dumbledore, knew everything under the sky.

"Harry… he might even kill you."

Harry's left eye (the one which was healthy) suddenly brightened. "That's good. Finally someone wants to do that."

Snape growled behind his immaculate expressionless mask. The headmaster just opened up another taboo on the child: don't ever offer death to the broken boy. He would jump in happiness instead of curling in fear like other normal human.

"Harry?" Dumbledore asked in disbelief. "Why are you so happy? Aren't you afraid?"

"Why should I? I have nothing left to life for, sir. At least if somebody kills me then my parents won't mind if I am dirty." Harry smiled, looking angelic despite all the bandages around his face and the seriousness of his tone.

Healer Turpin cleared her throat. Her motherly feelings towards the boy increased two fold when she saw how he was coping with everything. The boy was sweet and selfless, demands nothing while thanking everything all the time. Harry often asked her why he was being treated, as if he wasn't used to be treated as a human. The frail boy was happy and grateful even though he was in great pain. She knew that her own daughter wouldn't be able to smile like Harry, instead she would be crying from pain. And to think they were of the same age…

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, I recommend you to stop this conversation. We need to check on Harry's condition."

Dumbledore looked like he remembered something and he turned back to the healer. "I want to ask you something, Healer Turpin. Is Harry's magical core level… low?"

"This is confidential, but as you are his  _magical guardian_ ," another thick sarcasm tone, "I am obliged to answer you. And yes, it is quite low, although I am unsure why the meter showed it low. His magical energy now is quite normal for wizard of his age; yet the meter showed this is just a fraction of his full proportion. Something is wrong with the measurement. We are trying to make a better potion mixture to measure it."

Dumbledore's eye lost his twinkle and he turned to the boy, aura changed into seriousness.

"Harry, be honest, did you or did you not face the Mirror of Erised?"

The boy looked up, staring back at the headmaster. A part of him was ready to say yes, but another part of him remembered his promise to Marvolo. If he told the headmaster about the mirror, then he would need to explain why he wanted it in the first place. And then he needed to reveal about Marvolo. So, no. He shouldn't tell the headmaster. Although Marvolo had left him, at least Harry would still be keeping his promise.

"No, sir."

Dumbledore looked unconvinced. Harry closed his eyes as sudden wariness flushed his mind. His mind was probed again. But as always, Harry quickly hid his mind behind the strong wall, waiting. The probing grew more desperate and attacked his wall with strong blows. Harry closed his eyes, wincing, and the probing stopped.

"Then I think we need to cut short this visit. I wish you to get well soon, Harry. I am truly sorry of what happened and I will do my best to prevent any more future harm on you."

Harry didn't open his eyes, preferring silent compared to the empty promises. He was used to it anyway. Adults with their empty promises… Well, at least Harry wasn't a liar like Dumbledore or Marvolo. He still kept his promise, and he would till the day he die.

Which, if he could chose, would be very soon.

But of course, Fate wouldn't let Harry has his own way with his life. So Harry decided to take the matter aside: now that he couldn't openly pursue death anymore, maybe there were some books or written information that would help him about it. He shouldn't tell anyone about what he wishes for. He would let the world see what they wanted to see. And he was sure, no one wanted the 'freak' in him.

Slowly, as his mind drifted into emptiness and sleep, Harry tucked himself away, inside a box, deep behind the wall in his mind. He had been doing it slowly, starting from the day Professor Snape took him from Dursley house. Hiding behind the invisibility cloak gave him the idea. When he was hidden under the cloak, even his aunt couldn't see him and gave him more chores to do. He was protected under the invisibility. So he gradually tucked himself in, securely. He wouldn't let people come in, or touch it, or see it. It would be his secret forever. If he hid inside the box, no one could hurt him again, ever.

* * *

Finally the day he could open the bandages came. Slowly the herbs were taken out, and Harry's face was cleaned. They showed him the mirror, and Harry looked at his own image, staring back at him.

But something was missing.

His lightning-bolt scar was gone.

* * *

Voldemort knew he was betraying Harry when he made Annana left the boy in front of Snape's door. He left Harry's mind and stayed with Salazar's familiar. He couldn't risk staying with Harry. The boy's magical core was severely depleted. If he stayed inside Harry, he would naturally suck the energy and Harry would die or his core would be destroyed. So instead, he took his Hocrux with him, and make Annana took the stone inside his mouth.

It took him a week to realize the whole usefulness of Philosopher's Stone. It was a magical catalyst that wouldn't change in composition like an organic enzyme, but it is also quite volatile in a sense that every concoction produced by the stone has different characteristic. It could make a potion for immortality, but can also make the strongest poison in the world. If it is in contact with metals, it will turned the composition of the metals into something even more stable than it was, which more often than not, produced gold.

After carefully make sure that the potion he made was safe and perfect for the ritual, Voldemort used it to combine his wondering soul with the Hocrux he took from Harry. Making the potion was hard as he didn't have physical body, so Annana kidnapped one of wondering wizard at Hogsmeade for Voldemort to possess. But he finally succeeded, and now he has a body to possess, and a better portion of his soul. His mind became clearer and he realized that the more he made Hocruxes, the less his sanity and common sense intact. Realizing his stupidity for ignoring the nature of Hocrux, Voldemort decided to make himself as a whole again, with maybe just one Hocrux for insurance.

He silently went to the room of requirement and obtained the Ravenclaw's Diadem. Then he performed the ritual again, and now he has two of his hocruxes back.

With the return of his souls, Voldemort returned to his common sense and almost returned back to his initial seductive charm and calculative personality, not the quick tempered, volatile emotional madman he was when he attacked the Godric Hollow. He then raided the Salazar's library to find any rituals to return his body back.

When he found one, he realized that he needs more than just the Stone to achieve the ritual's requirement. The most ruthless ritual required bones of his father, flesh of his follower and his enemy's blood. But he wouldn't want to hurt Harry, and Harry was no longer his enemy, so he searched for another method (He also took into account that currently his enemy is Dumbledore, and getting some blood donor from the old goat made Voldemort's skin crawled in disgust). He was so immersed into his research that he forgot the time and date, and when he got a way to actually returned his body without the need to hurt Harry, it was already two weeks after the summer holiday.

Realizing he needed to save Harry from his bastard relatives, Marvolo opted to stay in his current stolen body and went to the house, Privet Drive. He prepared himself for Harry's sadness or anger, but he was surprised that Snape actually snatched Harry under his nose. He arrived just to find the horse woman told him that Snape has taken Harry with him to St. Mungo on the same day, in the morning.

Voldemort then quickly hid his irritation and made himself invited inside the house. Voldemort didn't realize that he could enter the Privet Drive's ward because of his emergence with the Hocrux in Harry's scar. Since the Hocrux has been with Harry ever since the ward was made, the ward acknowledged Voldemort's piece of soul as itself, and frankly, made Dumbledore's calculated protection worthless.

It was a bit late, and every single one of the Dursley was inside the house. Voldemort then performed legilimency on each of them, the woman first, the piggy son and then the fatty man. As he progressed (and each of his victim fainted in mind-rape pain), Voldemort felt his ager rise. But nothing could compare when he saw what the whale man had done to his Harry.

His beautiful, innocent Harry was forced to do such imaginable thing… and plus all the other sick imaginations the man had when he saw Harry, even with bruises and twisted limbs. Voldemort might be the Dark Lord, but this man took the crown. He was pure devil paedophile. Sick to the core.

He took the greatest pleasure in torturing the man. He hung Vernon Dursley on the wall and castrated his manhood. The scream of pain was blocked by the silencing charm Voldemort put around the house. Then he slowly cut the man's limbs, slices by slices. Everytime Vernon lost his consciousness, he enervated the man back and continued. It was hilarious and very satisfying.

Meanwhile he put the other two in body binds. They were both forced to see what happened to their father/husband, and Voldemort hinted that they would be next. It was very satisfying to see their distress and fear. But it was not enough, when he remembered what Harry had gone through.

So he took the two worthless muggles and apparated back to Chamber of Secret (which, apparently, allowed Salazar's descendant to apparate straight in through the Hogwarts ward. When he was young, Tom Riddle theorized that maybe the Chamber was built differently than the rest of the castle—it was possible that the chamber exists in another space, connected into the castle by Parselmagic). He kept them awake, but let them unharmed and blindfolded inside a bubble so that Annana wouldn't be able to kill them with her sight.

He has lots of torture plans for them, but it can wait for next time. He needed to gather his forces and for now, he let Harry recuperate in the St. Mungo. And then, just after he did all that and slowed down, he wondered why Harry matters so much to him, enough to make him kill.

Why?

* * *

My pre-written chapter ends here. Please be patient for the next one.

Review please? I swear they have morphine-like effect on me.

 


	9. Chapter 9

I didnt think it would turn out like this, I mean the Dumbledore-bashing. I didnt purposely set it up like that. The plot flow like that. I still believe that even though he is a manipulator, he still have a kind heart, or at least, he really loves Harry.

Thank you for the kudos and comments! 

Enjoy!

* * *

Harry woke up to find the familiar ceilings on top of him. It was the Slytherin First year dorm. He was on top of his bed. Alone, because it was in the early summer holiday and every student were back in their homes with their families. And here he was, alone because he has nobody.

Harry closed his eyes again. He wanted to go back to sleep. He has the reason to, since he was still recuperating from his previous injured condition. He was still on potions regime and some therapies for both his gait and mind. But being alone on his bed made him wonder about so many things. And thinking tires him.

When the headmaster carefully told him that the Dursleys were gone and his uncle was killed brutally, Harry couldn't bring himself to believe whatever the old man was saying. Harry believed the headmaster was a lying master. Nothing that came out from his mouth was truth. It was always lies. And maybe the headmaster was lying again this time, though why he lie made Harry wonder. The lie was quite elaborate.

Or maybe the Dursleys just decided that they didn't want him anymore, and the headmaster was trying to safe Harry's feeling? Well, if that was the case then the headmaster was doing too much. Harry knew that the family loathed him. Being finally kicked out from the place was something that Harry knew would happened someday. He knew it and that's why he worked so hard to please them all these time because he still needed a place to stay. Harry just wished before it happened he would have someone… someone who would take care of him, or at least give him a roof over his head. And he thought he had one.

Marvolo.

The spark of disappointment for being abandoned by Marvolo was carefully tucked inside the box. The box was almost full as Harry always tucked away any bad feelings he had into the box. Harry even gave the box a name, 'Harry's box'. It was filled with so many emotions and memories he didn't want to see anymore. If he could, he would put his own name inside the box and get another name, which would be more loveable than Harry. Alas, the reality doesn't work that way.

When Harry was finally transferred to Hogwarts, he was happy. He thought he wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts ever again. At least now he could still meet the house elves and Annana. Yet again, reality failed him. The house elves were still kind, but somehow the headmaster had told them that Harry was sick, so no more playing, no more casual chats because Harry needed rest. So the house elves only appeared occasionally in front of him, cooing him with cookies and sweets, but none came and stayed to talk fun like they used to.

Annana was another matter. Harry travelled to the second floor girl's toilet to find that he couldn't speak Parseltongue anymore. He tried to hiss 'open', but the word never came into his mouth. As if the ability just disappeared with his magic. His magic returned, but the Parseltongue went away, just like his scar. And he couldn't open the door to the chamber, he couldn't speak to snakes, and of course, he couldn't see Annana anymore without being dead. He also met the girl ghost in the toilet, and the girl screamed at him for being a Slytherin. She said he was unwelcomed in the toilet anymore. Harry hasn't come back since.

Harry was very sad, losing both accesses to Annana and the elves. Harry cheered himself by staring at the chocolate frog, which sadly, looked like half melted and the porcelain cups again and again. They helped, just as a reminder of the happier times of his memories.

Somehow even though he was healed, Harry felt like broken into pieces. His chest was numb, his limbs were weak and boneless. He could sit on the bed all day, without moving. Usually in the morning, one house elf would come and begged him to eat, which Harry would taste only bits, half at maximum. He couldn't eat much anymore. And then a healer would come to check him, and Madam Pomfrey would take him to the physical room where he was asked to do some exercise before lunch. Then after lunch another mind healer would come and engaged him in one-to-one two hours therapy session. They would ask him everything, urging him to talk.

Harry didn't want to talk at all. If he talked, then he could accidentally open the Harry's box. So instead, he smiled and be a nice boy and answered the questions with yes, no or silence. The smile was always plastered on his face these days. People always like it better when he smiled. So he did. And the mind healer reduced their sessions from everyday to two days a week. He stated that he felt Harry being too suffocated with the intense therapy, and maybe with the lessened time, Harry would be able to speak out better.

Plop!

Harry turned to see a house elf by the name Wobby stood beside his bed. Harry automatically smiled.

"Good morning, Harry Potter, sir! Would you like your breakfast now?"

Harry nodded to find a full breakfast tray on top of his lap. He woke up slowly and took a slice of bread. The elf encouraged him to take more, but Harry wasn't really hungry. After breakfast he got his usual check up and physical therapy; and lunch passed just like usual. He was required to eat in the Great Hall with his professors. When Harry first came, the professors all fussed about him. Now they was already used to him and left him alone.

Sometimes, one of his professors would ask him for an afternoon with them. Professor Sprout took Harry to her green house one time and showed him her newest addition of mandrake plant. They looked like a really small embryo, looking more like small hazelnuts with leaves. Professor Snape took him to brew another potion from the book, and together they spent one whole afternoon brewing voice changing potion. And that day Hagrid came to him and asked the boy whether Harry wanted to see Fang, his dog. Harry agreed and followed the man to the small hut by the outskirt of the Forbidden Forrest.

* * *

The boy was sitting on the grass with a hand absentmindedly patting the stomach of Fang when suddenly the dog stood up and barked. Harry turned to see a being of half man-half horse stood behind one of the trees.

"Greetings, o human child."

Harry returned the greetings, but he wasn't sure how, so he just responded the best he could.

"Greetings, sir."

"I am called Firenze, and I am a centaur. Please call me by my given name."

Harry nodded. The centaurs stared at him for a long time.

"You are tainted, yet still pure. But your mind is broken, yet not without it strength. I am here to bring you a lady. Her wish to meet you was so great that the stars asked me to bring her here."

And the unicorn Harry saw last time came forward. Harry was stunned. He didn't know he could see the unicorn again. Beside her stood her Foal, now baby bluish in colour. An innocent smile brightened the boy's face. He was glad they could meet again. Harry stood up and came nearer. Firenze, however, stood between them.

"You are not pure enough to come near them, human child. They are here to bid you farewell."

Harry stopped on his place. Another disappointment. His mind was blank, and his chest throbbed. He should have known. He wasn't as pure as he was. He was tainted. His uncle tainted him. His mind tainted him. Harry was useless. And now he needed to say goodbye to the unicorns.

"She wants me to inform you, child, that it is not your fault. They are leaving for a safer place in the forest, and it is not safe for any human, especially human child. They are here to bid farewell. And to thank you for the help you bestowed upon them."

Harry was numb. He couldn't think.

"They hoped you well and you should use the moonstone wisely. Greetings, human child."

With that, Firenze turned back with the unicorns following him. They disappeared among the trees, just in time when tears started dropping on Harry's cheek.

"N…No… Please wait…" he stumbled upon words and he started to run into the woods. Please don't leave him like that. Not now. Please not now. He didn't have anyone else. Please not now. Not now. Not…

"'Arry!" the boy felt two large hands around his body, catching him and preventing him from running into the woods. "You can't go there! It's dangerous!"

The boy didn't recognize the voice; in his mind he was set to run after the unicorn and her foal. They were planning to go somewhere safe, somewhere without human, somewhere peaceful. Like the death Harry always wished for. He wanted to go with them. He didn't mind if they wont let him touch them, just please take him with them. He wanted to go there as well.

"'Arry! 'Arry!"

But the hands around him were so strong. Harry couldn't let them go. And the voice was annoying…

"'Arry! Can ya' hear me?"

Harry turned to see Hagrid looking worriedly at him.

And he didn't know why, but he turned back and hugged the gigantic man, as tight as he could. No. Hagrid was the first man who introduced him to magic. Harry didn't want to lose him as well. Everybody is leaving him one by one. No. Please don't leave him. Please. Please.

"''Arry? Wh't happened?"

"Why? Why does everybody leave me? What is my problem? Why is it my fault? Where did I do wrong? If I can't die, then why nobody tells me where I am doing it wrong? I cannot change without knowing what my problem is! I don't know! Tell me! What should I do?"

The huge man wasn't famous for his agile mind or his communication skill. He was in shocked to see the little boy he liked so much started to cry and wanting to run into the forest. And now the said boy sobbed and talked more than the whole time he had been back in Hogwarts combined. Hagrid missed most of the words that Harry was saying, and he wasn't sure how to respond.

"…er… maybe because you don't do well in your study? Maybe if you study well then it will get better?"

It was very ironic that the words of kind but careless half giant made the Harry Potter changed that day.

* * *

It felt like a door was opened for him. Harry realized that maybe his approach to everything was wrong. Hagrid was an honest man; and he wouldn't lie. So, what Hagrid said was very true: he should study as much as he could. Maybe he would gradually understand what was wrong with him. Maybe by studying, he would understand death, and he would know the best way to achieve it. And maybe by the knowledge he gets after he study, he could make other people think he wasn't useless. And they would like him all over again.

The need to study fuelled his mind. And he started that very night, as he went to the library under the invisibility cloak after dinner, and stayed there for the rest of the night. He somehow managed to create a small light source with his wandless magic, and he noticed that Madame Prince was going to take a brief holiday for two weeks. It was just the perfect timing.

So he stayed in the library all night. Marvolo's advice filled his head—those advise he given Harry when he was still inside Harry's mind—and based on those, Harry chose his starting point. The book on charms and transfiguration were some of the first that Harry read, along with some of the history and potion journals. He also went to search about books with some possible explanation on death; but they were all locked inside the restricted section. And Harry, from the trauma watching his books and robes being burnt by Duddley, refused to borrow some of the books back to read inside his dorm. He preferred to stay in the library to read; because he didn't believe himself to take cares those books.

In the morning, after finished reading quite a number of books, Harry went back to his room and just in time as Wobbly came to offer his breakfast. Taking a slice of bread, harry thanked him and went to the bath. Then the day passed as usual, but after lunch Harry went straight to the library (and even though Madam Prince locked the library room somehow Harry could open it easily by muttering ' _Alomohora_!' like Marvolo did the first time they really met). And then he would stay there until dinner, came back after dinner, and then stayed there until the next morning.

Thus, his schedule for the whole summer holiday was set.

* * *

One weekend, Snape decided that the boy needed a fresh air. He observed that the boy came to lunch looking more tired each day, and when he asked why, Harry answered that he got not enough sleep. Snape guessed maybe the child was staying in bed too much for his own good and became agitated. So he decided to take the child for the trip that has been postponed because of everything that happened.

That Sunday noon he asked the child to spend the afternoon with him. He noticed that Albus was looking at them in interest. Harry looked like he wanted to reject the offer, which was a weird thing, but in the end he agreed and the boy smiled back. Snape noticed that Harry kept the smile all the time whenever he thought people were around. And somehow it creep the potion master out.

* * *

The Potion Master noticed that the boy was wearing his ugly muggle clothes back.

"Harry," he asked, "Why are you wearing those again? I thought I have given you better clothes to wear?"

Upon hearing this, Harry turned red and his smile faltered. The boy bit his lips, and looked down. His body started to shake badly, from fear and guilt. He knew the Professor would notice. Especially with the lack of school robes he usually used to hide the fact that he had no more good clothes. He was afraid the Potion Master would get angry if he knew Harry lost Snape's present. So Harry wore his best Duddley's cast off. But it wasn't enough. "I am sorry, professor. Dudley burned them. I am really sorry for being unable to keep them nicely. I am sorry, professor."

"Child…" Snape was mortified, but he wanted to calm the boy down. He kneeled down, both hand resting on Harry's shaky shoulders. The boy refused to look at him. Snape didn't know what to do, because frankly he wasn't good at comforting or with children. So he spoke the truth. "…It is not your fault, Harry. Don't be scared. I am not angry at you."

"You can… whip me, Professor. I failed to take care of the stuffs you bought me. I am sorry."

"That is not your fault, Child. Please believe me."

Harry stopped shaking, slowly looking up. Snape was taken aback when he saw the eyes. It was very haunting. Harry's emerald orbs were dark and dead; as if the child has already given up on everything. There were obvious dark bags underneath his eyes, and Snape noticed how thin the boy was, still. Even after all those rest and nutrition potions.

"Child, do you eat…?"

"Ah, Serverus, Harry! Are you going out?"

Suddenly the headmaster appeared behind them. And Snape was forced to postpone his talk with Harry. Somehow the headmaster ended up successfully invited himself for that trip and the three of them went to Diagon Alley by apparition.

Snape was growling inside his head. The old meddlesome goat! But he couldn't reject the headmaster for the old man looked dead set to have his claws on both him and Harry, especially when he heard where they were going (Snape was forced to speak the truth—he couldn't make the older man to go away).

* * *

They were seated in front of the goblin that was in charge of Potter family's vaults. Harry looked around him, finding the room filled with so many grey magic, all looked strong and unwelcoming. Professor Snape told him that Gringotts was one of the safest places in Britain, and the wards around the bank were the best in the world. Harry realized that maybe all those greyish unwelcoming magic were the wards. He remembered tits and bits about wards from all the books he had been marathon-reading the whole week, and he repeated them inside his head.

The goblin noticed the lack of attention and cleared his throat. Harry returned his attention to see a bowl in front of him, a concave green jade bowl.

"Please put your blood inside this bowl, Mr. Potter."

Harry winced when one of the guard goblins took his hand, pricked Harry's pointing finger with a small blade, and then massaged the finger to obtain three drops of blood. Beside him Professor Snape and Professor Dumbledore were watching intensely.

The bowl glowed green for a while, and it dimmed after five minutes. The goblin looked amused, but he didn't tell anybody why. Well, not the wizards, anyway. They were too stupid and ignorant of magic to understand how significant the glow was. The glow measured how much potential a wizard has. The longer it glowed, the stronger the potential is, and in average, even the most of pureblood only managed three minutes. So five minutes was a really big deal. Yet, again, why should goblins share their knowledge with ignorant wizards?

"The Potter family bowl indicates that you are the heir of Potter." The goblin started his usual speech. "Now, what do you want from us, Lord Potter?"

"Pardon me," Dumbledore spoke out. "As much as I found it very amusing, isn't it too fast to call Harry a Lord? He is not yet an adult, afterall."

The goblin smirked. "We recognize a title not based on minister's law, Mr. Dumbledore. When the bowl glowed, it is enough proof for Gringotts to acknowledge Mr. Harry Potter as the Heir of Potter, and thus, Lord Potter."

Dumbledore bit his lips, but he smiled to show that he was not displeased. Harry ignored the whole thing and watching the bowl in fascination, as the bowl glowed beautifully with his magic. It felt like he was meeting an old family.

Snape, on the other hand, noticed the absurd wish of control Dumbledore wanted to have on Harry. Why was it the case? What was special about the boy that made Dumbledore became this … careless, foolish? Dumbledore was usually good with his subtle manipulation, and not this  _obvious_. Snape has a feeling that even the goblin recognized the weird control obsession.

"Lord Potter, I suggest you to listen to your parent's will, if you want to?"

Dumbledore perked up at that. "Ah, Mr. Griphook, I think they left no will…?"

"They have it, actually, and it was supposed to be given to Lord Potter when he is 20 years old under normal condition. However, with both of them passed away when Lord Potter was only 1, the will should be given to Lord Potter straightaway. However, I found your seal, Mr. Dumbledore, on the will of Lord Potter's parents. Your seal said that you don't allow the will to be read to Lord Potter until he is eighteen. Is this right, Mr. Dumbledore?"

Harry turned to the headmaster. He knew that the old man was a liar, but to do that… to actually seal a letter from his parents, the parent he never knew…

"Why, headmaster? Why did you do that?"

Dumbledore was at loss. He didn't know how to answer this question without jeopardizing his 'good position' in Harry's eyes. He still believed that the boy looked up at him as a grandfather.

"I did it because you were so small, Harry. I want to protect you."

Harry refused to listen anymore, and turned to the goblin. "Sir, can I read my parent's letter, then?"

"Certainly, Lord Potter." The goblin smirked. He took a scroll from one of the safe behind his desk and then opened the scroll. The seal melted once the goblin touched the scroll. The goblin then put it in front of Harry. The boy took it, hand a bit shaking.

His parents, who died from drunk-driving, had actually left him a letter. A will. Whatever, it was the same. The last message. Maybe they would tell him why his parents left him alone. Maybe it would tell Harry what his parents expected from him. Maybe the letter would tell him what they felt about Harry.

Wishing the best and preparing for the worst disappointment, Harry opened the scroll.

A voice suddenly filled the room. actually, there were two voices.

" _To our dearest Harry, if you are listening to this script, maybe we are both dead or maybe we are enjoying ourselves in Caribbean. Yeah, Potter family has a villa there. It is all yours, son. By the way, no, we are not joking. Now, you are either of age or ready to be the head of Potter family. It's just the war is coming to a peak and we are quite worried about you should something happened to us. Ok, back to topic, I, James Potter, bequeathed all these possessions for the people listed:_

_A tenth of my private fault for Peter Pettigrew. You should totally use it to improve you look, old rat._

_A quarter of my private fault to Remus Lupin. Moony, take it. Don't fight it. You need it, trust me._

_Another tenth of my private fault for Sirius Black. You don't need my money, Sirius. You have enough on your own. Just use this to pamper my son will you?_

_A tenth of my private fault for Albus Dumbledore. You had been a very good mentor, but a very manipulative one. I request you to take care of my son and not taking advantage of him._

_And the rest are for my Harry. Also, he should inherit the main Potter vault, the branch Potter vaults in various countries like Italy and Egypt, which I don't know the details about. I was sure we had around 20 vaults all over the world, but the number might be wrong. You should ask Gringotts Harry. Ah, and then the entire Potter's inheritance, power as well as artefact. I know you would know how to use the invisibility cloak well. You also inherit the Potter Mansion, two castles up north and some villas. I suggest you come with us to the Caribbean. I bet you'll find it heavenly. But just don't disturb me and your mother while we are making your siblings… "_

Suddenly a smack sound could be heard.  _"Don't listen to your father, dear."_  Another female, gentler voice spoke. Snape went rigid. He knew the voice very well.  _"I, Lily Evans-Potter, rest all my belongings with people listed below:_

_Firstly, Petunia Dursley, a sum of ten thousand galleons._

_My potion journals, books and notes as well as half my vault are to be given to Serverus Snape._

_The rest are for my dearest son, Harry James Potter._

_And we have agreed that should something happen to us, then the custody and guardianship should be passed to either Sirius Black, or Severus Snape. "_

A whiny,  _I hate that smelly git!_  Was heard, but then a smack sound followed.

" _Harry, please take care and please remember we love you so much. You were the best thing we ever had. We wish the very best for you, our baby."_

The scroll rolled itself back. The voices disappeared. Snape snapped back into reality with the loss of Lily's voice, just to see the heartbreaking view in front of him.

The boy was shaking, but slowly pulling the scroll into his hand. Then he clutched the roll onto his chest tightly. The boy's face was hidden under his hairs, but his hands were clearly shaking hard. And Snape could see silent tears dropping from the boy's cheeks. Slowly dropping down, wetting his arms. But the boy didn't move. He didn't even breathe normally, as if he was just relieving everything again, absorbing every single message his parents gave him. The boy breathed in and out slowly, as if it was hard. And tears continued to go down his cheek.

And when Snape turned to see the old man Dumbledore (who was looking at Harry's reaction as well), he saw the obvious pain and guilt in the man's dimmed blue eyes.

* * *

It was hard to breathe. His face was blocked with tears.

His parents loved him.

They loved him.

They did.

He was truly happy. They… They loved him. They didn't hate him. They were happy he was born. He was wanted. Harry James Potter was a proud son of James and Lily Potter. They had wanted him. They wanted the best for him. They loved him so much. He was the best thing that ever had to his parent.

He was wanted.

It was getting hard to breathe.

His box slowly opened. The memory of watching the 'normal' enjoying their dinner filled his mind. His four year old self was so jealous of Duddley because his parents loved him so much. It was when he was still small enough and didn't understand that he wasn't a part of the family. He watched as his uncle and aunts smiled over Duddley and praised their 4 years old son. They said that Duddley was the best son in the world, that they had wanted Duddley so much. Harry watched in jealousy from the corner of the room. He wasn't allowed to sit on the dining chair. His place was on the floor, and his plate was in front of him. He had asked why he couldn't sit on the chair. Why they don't fuss over him. Why his uncle and aunt only paid attention to Duddley. He was rewarded with slaps. And chores. And being called worthless freak. They said he was alone because nobody wanted him. They said Harry should be thankful he was given food for he was just a burden.

No, now he knew that his parents wanted him. He could replace Duddley with his own image, imagining everything. In the place of Aunt and Uncle, there was his Mom and Dad. They were all around him, fussing and praising him, telling him that they loved him so. They gave him food, they loved him. They would take him to the zoo, they would give him food everyday, they would remember his birthday and gave him congratulations, and maybe some presents. They would sing Happy Birthday for him. because they were glad he was born. And then they would happily spend time together in the living room, watching TV and laughed at the silly cartoon or listening to the songs or went picnic together. His parents would give him everything he ever wished for, and he would be so happy.

So … happy.

So very happy.

But his imagination was just a dream. His parents would never be there. They were gone. Nobody stepped into their place, to love and protect Harry. Harry has lost most of his friends. He was truly alone now. He had lost the only people who loved him to death.

Death.

 _Fascinating_.

* * *

Snape realized that he couldn't just wait until Harry recollected himself back, so he stepped forward.

"From the will, it seemed that the custody of Lord Potter should be given to either Sirius Black or myself. Since Sirius Black is clearly unsuitable to take care of Harry Potter, I, Serverus Snape come forward to claim the custody and guardianship."

The goblin nodded. He couldn't help but feel a bit, just a bit, pity over the child who was clutching the scroll as if it was all the gold in the world. The tears were sincere and painful to watch. "So mote it be. Lord Potter guardianship is transferred to you as we speak. So we need to show you every past transaction, list and details of Potter vaults."

"Please continue." Snape asked. And then he realized Dumbledore became alert back and returned his attention to Snape.

"Since eleven years ago, some transaction has been made. Firstly was by Albus Dumbledore, who acted as a magical proxy for Lord Potter. Albus Dumbledore took a magical artefact from James Potter's personal fault. And we noted that he also took a regular two thousand galleons per year. Another annual fee was withdrawn from Lord Potter's trust fund under the name of Hogwarts' fee starting from last year. Lastly, one withdrawal was made by Lord Potter himself last year, and also some sum was transferred as St. Mungo's fee."

Snape turned to Dumbledore in rage. He then turned back to the goblin. "How many has Albus Dumbledore taken from Potter's vault?"

"Based on my calculation," the goblin looked at the paper, "He had taken three quarters of the amount of money bequeathed to him by the late Lord James Potter. With the next two year annual transfer, the amount should fill up the will. Do you wish to continue transferring money to Albus Dumbledore afterward?"

Snape hissed. "Stop it when it filled his quota; and no more than that should ever be given to Albus Dumbledore anymore: my ward has never given authority to him to ever take anything. I requested Albus Dumbledore to return the artefact he had taken, as well as to never meddle with Harry James Potter's inheritance anymore. So mote it be."

"So mote it be." The goblin nodded. A golden glow formed between the three: Snape, Harry and the bank. Dumbledore grimly aware that if he tried to meddle here, Snape and Gingotts has all the rights to bring him to Winzengamot. With his current standing being under reviewed, Dumbledore couldn't afford another scandal.

Snape then kneeled in front of Harry. The boy was still clutching the scroll near to his heart. Snape grimed sadly and slowly trailed his finger on Harry's wet cheek. The boy twitched, but looked up to Snape. They watched each other closely.

"Harry, from now on, I am your guardian. I will be your protector as well as your teacher. I will do my best to guide and protect you."

Harry was still silent. His disbelieve was clear on his wet eyes.

"Harry… Would you listen to me? I promise on my magic that I would never hurt you purposely."

The boy finally nodded. Snape let a relieved sighed. He slowly rubbed the boy's cheek gently, wiping off the tear streaks. Harry blushed, feeling embarrassed for he was crying like hell, and managed to stop his tears. He paid more attention after that: they went through his inheritance, his assets and his powers. Harry didn't understand half of it, but Snape looked like wanting to faint everytime the Goblin mentioned another power. And then when the vaults were mentioned, Harry was informed that he has 23 vaults that was actively gathering investment revenue, while another 4 were quite dormant and frankly better to be closed down before being taken over by the local government.

Finally it was over and Harry was ushered to his vault. Harry went into his father's personal vault, and he saw even more gold than what he had in his own trust vault. But it wasn't very attractive to him; he was more intrigued by the objects inside, such as the tomes and books. He took some of the books and put it inside his bottomless money pouch. He then took some galleons for his school stuff shopping.

Sadly, he couldn't bring the scroll out from Gringotts, but Harry replayed the message again and again in his head:

" _Harry, please take care and please remember we love you so much. You were the best thing we ever had. We wish the very best for you, our baby."_

And for the first time in weeks, Harry could sincerely smile.

* * *

TBC.

I have tried my best to provide update as fast as I can, as reliable as I can. I think I deserve a pat in the back? Thanks!


	10. Chapter 10

Lucius Malfoy was a Slytherin in and out.

Since he was small, Lucius Malfoy has always been fascinated by beauty and power. He loves anything that was beautiful. He respects power and aspires to be one of the most powerful. His father, Abraxas Malfoy, was not famous for his kind heart. He was more famous over his sick tendencies, and it was a public secret that his wife always seen with bruises on her pale skin. Being the son of such a sadist made his childhood filled with brutal reality of violence and power. One thing Abraxas Malfoy had done was to make sure his heir understand that power is control. And being in control means a step closer to Godhood. Thus, the love affair between Lucius and power was born.

Naturally, he was sorted into the house of Pureblood: Slytherin. He was naturally blessed with charm and elegance from his Malfoy blood; but his power and his view made him more popular than ever. He became a sort of leader in Slytherin when he stayed in Hogwarts. After finishing Hogwarts, his father anointed him to be his right hand man. Together they maintained the good name of Malfoy family as well as getting the ministry under their political control.

It was then when he met a very charismatic and enchanting man, whom called himself Voldemort. The man explained to him that he was there to return the pureblood society as well as the forgotten dark arts into the current pathetic Wizarding society. Abraxas was enthralled by Lucius' new associate and together they followed the charismatic man. The man oozed black magic power and both of Malfoys were attracted to it like a moth attracted to fire. Thus, they became the inner circle of Death Eaters, along with other purebloods family heads with the same aim.

Not longer after that, Voldemort turned into some sort of dictator. His leadership style was based on fear and punishment, something that was not really acceptable for Lucius. When Abraxas was killed by one of the aurors in one of their death eater attacks, Lucius realized that he was following the wrong man for the first time. Lucius was forced to be the head of Malfoy family, yet honestly, he found himself too young for inheriting the title. He needed some time to adjust, yet Voldemort didn't give him any time to rest and control his estate. They were in the peak of war and the snake lover man wouldn't let his inner circle Death Eaters worked away from him. Moreover, the dark mark has bound him to Voldemort, who now demanded people to call him a 'Lord'. Lucius laughed behind the man; but in front of Voldemort, he showed the outmost respect for he still loves his life.

On the same time, he acquired a fiancée born into the noble house of Black due to his inheritance. Narcissa Black was a beautiful woman with will as strong as iron and quite powerful magical core. Both aspects suited Lucius' criteria and within a month, they were married. Within another three months, their first child was conceived. Lucius felt strange, since he believed he wouldn't have any feelings toward his children: his father has shown him that Abraxas never loved him as a son; and naturally Lucius believed it was the way a Malfoy supposed to be raised. Lucius himself believed that he was incapable of loving his offspring. They were just to continue bloodline after all.

But Narcissa made him feel love towards his first child; and when Draco was born, Lucius Malfoy cried for the first time in his adult life. The baby boy was so small; Lucius could crush him with his bare hands. It was powerless, weak and defenceless yet Lucius couldn't bring himself to harm or let any other harm fell onto his baby. When he put his face closer, he saw two grey eyes watching him intensely. Lucius felt each breath his small son gave away on his own cheek. Narcissa watched them in adoration. She knew something in Draco has change Lucius.

And that's why she was happy when the Dark Lord 'died' on that Halloween Night. The crazy dictator was getting truly evil and looked like a snake more than a man. Narcissa always excessively worried abut her family because of Lucius' connection as a inner circle Death Eater. Lucius took care of them nicely, claiming that he served the man under Imperius curse. He was freed from all charges and thus, he continued to be the puppeteer behind the veil. The current minister was under his control, so perfect that Lucius knew he was already at the top of the top: he was in control of Ministry of Magic, hence the Britain Magical World.

Now, he needed to severe everything that might connect him to the dead Dark Lord. The dark mark was concealed with the strongest charm, but he knew it was futile. Aside from that, he acquired some cursed artefact from the man; so he threw them all away. He had burned all of them except a diary. The innocent looking diary possessed the darkest magic compared to all other. No matter how he tried, the diary returned to his hand, in perfect condition.

It was a coincidence. He was taking the diary to Gringotts, so that he could put it inside one of the useless vaults Malfoy family had in the Goblin bank. He had long given up destroying the diary, and maybe it was best to keep it somewhere safe. And on that day, he met his closest acquaintance, borderline friend, Serverus Snape and a small boy called Harry Potter.

* * *

When Snape confronted Dumbledore about the artefact he took from James Potter's vault, the old headmaster replied that he had returned it to Harry as a Christmas present. The Potter estate goblin manager scowled when he heard this, and explained that it couldn't be counted as 'returning' when the said thing was presented as a 'gift'. The goblin further stated that if Dumbledore didn't return one artefact on similar values, then Gringotts have the right to bring the matter to Winzengamot, or worse, taken a part of Dumbledore's magical core as a fine.

The old man went pale after that, and he explained that he needed sometime to 'prepare' other gift with similar value of Potter family's Invisibility Cloak. Harry watched the whole thing indifferently, for he didn't really care. He knew it wasn't a gift from his headmaster. Marvolo had told him before. Thinking back, Marvolo was right about almost everything. And he missed Marvolo so much. In the end, Harry hid his sadness behind his usual smile and instead focused on the memory of his parents' will.

Dumbledore excused himself and went away after that; Snape let him go with disgust. Now that he knew the extension of cunningness of Dumbledore's, he started to wonder how much of that man's persona was actually true. Maybe all these time he also manipulated Snape in some ways or the other. Noting to self so that he wouldn't blindly follow the man next time, he proceeded to Diagon Alley with Harry. The boy needed so many new stuffs: from clothes and food to self care products, and maybe a broom.

They met Lucius Malfoy when they were half way through their shopping spree. By that time, Harry's arms were filled with so many stuffs: shrunken new clothes, new cauldron, another set of potion ingredients as well as some self-care products (like hair brush, towels and underwear). They were planning to go to the Flourish and Botts, the bookshop. Even though the Hogwarts letter for new semester hasn't arrive as yet, Snape knew which book he required for second year potion and maybe he could coax the boy into studying with him for the reminder of the summer holiday.

Serverus and Lucius exchanged their usual greetings masked by sarcasm. After a while, they decided to get a lunch together in one of the eatery in Diagon Alley. Harry was fascinated by the blond pureblood: He looked exactly like an older carbon copy of Draco. And the man felt like power. Harry could feel some kind of power from Lucius, although he couldn't see Lucius' aura like he could see on Snape. Harry decided that maybe each wizard is different. Harry could see auras on some of them while he could sense the aura on the others. And their magical power level depends on how clear it was for Harry to sense. He could see and feel that both Lucius Malfoy and Serverus Snape were two of the strongest wizards in the room.

* * *

Lucius apparated straight into Malfoy's mansion great hall. Usually his wife welcomed him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek when there was no guest, so when Lucius saw how prim and proper Narcissa was welcoming him, he knew they were having some guests at the mansion.

His wife bowed politely and showed him to his guest room. Lucius followed and what he saw betrayed him: the man sitting on the couch while drinking wine was a blonde, idiot liar. The blonde guy who won five times the silliest contest of 'the best smile' in witch weekly magazine was sitting on his couch, drinking his wine. Lucius' anger soared, but he calmly hid it behind his impassive face. His wife grabbed his hand gently and went away, closing the door behind her. It was only Lucius and the guest now, and frankly the Malfoy patriarch didn't feel like welcoming a guest of 'that' level.

"May I know why I have the honour of having you in my ancestor house?" Lucius asked coldly, yet still polite.

The man stood up, and suddenly the room was filled with familiar power. Lucius unconsciously took a step back. He knew this power. He was attracted to  _this_  power. The man turned to see him, and Lucius could see clearly the face of Gilderoy Lockhart. But gone was the silliness and self importance oozed by the original man; now he emanated power and confident.  _Control_.

"Luciusss…" The man hissed. The blonde idiot looked really menacing; his eyes were red with split pupils. "It's been ssso long…"

Lucius Malfoy gulped down, fighting the urge to run away from the man. But he was trapped inside his own mansion.

Pathetic.

And here he thought he finally was free from the evil dictator's control. Lucius bowed down as low as possible.

"My Lord."

* * *

Harry followed the professor in front of him. After their shopping trip and lunch affair, the potion professor took him down to his quarter, in the dungeon. It was summer, but the dungeon felt as cool as ever.

They entered the professor's room and Harry was surprised to see a new door on the wall. He knew there wasn't a door there when he was in Professor Snape's quarter last time.

"That is your room, Child. I am your guardian now; so in holidays and weekend you are welcome to use that room, but you need to stay in your dorm when the semester commence."

Harry nodded, but he was confused. The Potion Master saw the confused look and he kneeled down to level his eyes with Harry's.

"You are now my ward; I will do my best to guide and protect you. I will also provide home for you. Since I planned on staying in Hogwarts this summer holiday, I can only provide you with a room in my quarter. If you don't like it, you can go back to your dorm, Harry."

The boy shook his head. He knew he would be ungrateful if he objected the offer. He just stared dumbly at the door. Snape gave him a bit of a push, urging him to open.

"See for yourself, child. You can decorate it however you like. But I won't accept combustible or loud decoration, so chose wisely."

Harry was amazed by the sheer size of the room. It was tenth times his cupboard under the stairs (he was sure that he would live in a similar cupboard under Snape's guardianship. After all, why would the man spent more than he should on him? Harry wasn't his child or anything. Moreover, he was kind of a burden. Snape was not his parent; so he has no obligation to care for Harry). In the middle of it was a four posters bed with soft curtains hanging around it. A small table and a comfortable chair by the corner followed by two book racks that was half filled; as if the professor wanted Harry to fill it in himself. Also, there was a built in wardrobe on the other side, with a huge mirror beside it.

"I am not sure what you like, but I suggest the colour pale blue. Colours have a subtle magic, and warm colours give you boost of emotions, while pastel calms you. For a bedroom, calming is always better."

Harry nodded. He was still struck in awe of his room. His first ever room. His own room.

Life suddenly looked better than ever.

* * *

His holiday was filled with so many things that harry lost track of.

In the first few days he busied himself to decorate his room. Harry filled the room with little he had: the new clothes were tidied up inside the wardrobe; his school books filled some of the empty spaces on the book racks. The chocolate frog and the mug were placed on the table, nicely beside his school supplies while Hedwig's owl stand stood beside the chair.

Harry found a small black book in the middle of his purchase. It was written as the property of T. M. Riddle. When he saw that the pages were empty, Harry suddenly filled with the urge to write something on it. However, his conscience warned him before he did anything to the book. Harry would never dare to use anything that was not given to him, simply because he was trained from the Dursley. Duddley always played that to Harry: leaving his broken toys around, making Harry thought that Duddley didn't want it anymore so Harry would take it, and then Duddley would cry to his father saying Harry stole and broken his toys. Or Aunt Petunia asking him what he wanted for dinner just to say that he wouldn't get it because Harry didn't do the chores perfectly or Harry was not worthy enough for a dinner. So, despite the compulsion to write something in the book, he let it slide and put the book beside the other textbooks on the rack.

He followed his professor's advice and chose pale blue as the wall colour. Wobby helped him coloured the room with a snap of his finger. Harry was amazed, and he made the elves taught him how to do it. In the end, Harry felt like old times when he could talk to the elf without being awkward. It was his first step, and Wobby invited him back to the kitchen. Harry took the offer and now kitchen felt like his second home. He went there between lunch and dinner, spending time washing the dishes and chat with the elves. Most of them accepted him back with open hands, but several elves took his eagerness to help as an insult, and they mostly ignored him. Harry couldn't help it and let it slide, knowing that he couldn't make everybody happy.

He also followed the study regime the professor gave him; from his determination to make the professor happy as well as his own curiosity. His professor seemed determine to make up for his stunted magical education, and Harry was taught the basic that all purebloods and halfblood children were taught since they were small. It was simple things like differentiating magical creatures, herbs and plants; how to prepare potions ingredients; all the simple charms like shrinking his things and returned it to the actual size, how to write nicely with the quill and ink, photocopy spells, incantation to make the light on or off and other simple household charms. Snape overlooked the fact that Harry wasn't allowed to do magic. Harry pretended he didn't know either. But he really enjoyed his lessons with his professor.

They always had lessons after dinner. The man was a cold man, but he was caring and strict. Somehow it made Harry calm when he was near the man. And then, when Snape let him go to his room to sleep, Harry took his Invisible Cloak and headed for another late-nighter in the library.

By now, Harry was very fascinated about the  _aspects_  of death. He was already in love with the notion of death, but now he needed to know what 'death' actually is. He listed the facts that people who died would never return to the living realm. Their body decomposed, and their souls were lost. But there were also ghosts in Hogwarts, so there should be some sort of gate where people who died needed to cross or otherwise stuck with their soul inside the living realm. It brought question of where were the other realms. What was the gate? Could the souls behind the gate passed back though to the living realm and vice versa? Could the souls in 'death' realm understand what happened in the living realm?

Most of the books he read on stated that death is a speculation between three states: resurrection, reincarnation and oblivion. It simply stated that death is a state where a soul can continue, whether it would be resurrect (living as a soul forever, hence, ghost); reincarnate (being born in another body, hence déjà vu and pseudo memories) or oblivion (the state where nothing matters anymore and nothing could be done or memorized—because there was no physical mass to contain the information, i.e. that it doesn't have living brain to remember stuff, for example).

On the other hand, if 'death' is a state, then could a person prevent his own death? With the body that is programmed to decay as soon as they were born? And why people die? What is the difference between the physical body and the soul? Are they really different? And where does magic comes into?

Could he actually bypass the death and met his parents?

The more he got into it; Harry found that 'death' was even more fascinating than ever. He followed some old books in the small corner of the library that touches the dead realm, and most of the books mentioned Necromancy, the art of communicating with the dead. Interestingly, it was one of the arts that caused the Witch Hunt in the 15th to 18th century. They also touch about ritual magic and the origin of magic. There was also another ritual magic branch called enochian magic, which aimed was similar to Necromancy. And all those were developed for the sole purpose of divination. However, Harry felt that Necromancy is not only for divination and communication. Somehow it also connects the relationship between death and the living; and the boy sensed that to understand death, he needed to learn Necromancy.

With his eleven years-almost twelve old minds, all these subjects were heavy and soon Harry found himself going deeper and deeper into speculation without proof. Also, he noticed that most of the necromancy references were kept in the restricted section of the library. With his Invisibility Cloak, he could get into the restricted section; however the book themselves are spelled and some of them screamed when Harry tried to take them out of the rack. Harry quickly placed them back and run out from the library, and for the first time in that week, he returned to his room before dawn.

His power returned as the day passed, and ever since he was personally taught by Professor Snape, Harry started to realize that showing his real affinity to magic was not a bad thing. His professor slash guardian was speechless when he saw what Harry could do with his wand—Harry hadn't show him his ability of wandless magic—especially when he saw Harry turned a rock into a puppy. Although the puppy only stayed for half an hour before turning back into a rock, it was still amazing because the transfiguration was OWL level. Snape actually praised him for it, so Harry started to get creative with his magic. Then Snape started to teach him about defensive as well as offensive hexes and jinxes.

Harry's days were so intense that sometimes he forgot that he needed his sleep. More often than not, he continued to force himself to study and read through the library's books all night; and in daylight he followed the physical therapy regime as well as socializing with the house elves. His magic sustained his body for the week, but by the end of the week, Harry was obviously tired and restless. All he wanted to do was to sleep but he seemed like never having time for it. Harry replayed the last message from his parents again and again in his head, to keep himself going. Yes, he wanted to meet his parents so much. They were the only ones who loved him. If Harry could do it, he could meet them again and thanked them for their love. So Harry needed to hang in there and be more focused on his study, just like Hagrid said.

* * *

"...So if you add aconite into the potion, it will turn acidic. You can test the acidity by putting a splint of tea tree branch into the potion… Harry, are you listening to me?"

The boy looked up, his eyes showed obvious sign of exhaustion. Snape grimaced. He knew something was wrong. The boy looked like he got not enough sleep. But he always made sure that the boy slept in controlled schedule suitable for children of his age. What happened?

"Harry, why are you so tired?"

The boy shook his head. "No sir, I am not tired."

"Do you sleep well? Are you really alright?" Snape asked, and unconsciously slipped into the boy's mind with Legilimency. But he was met with the usual wall, and he couldn't slip in.

Snape let it slide. Harry was grateful for it and tried to focus. His eyes were quite blurry and dry. His head hurt so badly. But he couldn't stop to rest. He needed to do this. He needed to be smart and perfect for everyone to like him. He needed to do the therapy; he needed to help the elves; he needed to focus on the lesson with his professor, and he needed to continue to study the books in the library because it was the only way people would accept him. People would only like him if they made them happy, because Harry doesn't have a family that would accept him as what he was. He should make people proud. He should make others happy. He should do everything that others asked him for.

And it wasn't like study was bad after all. He learned so much stuff in days since he started to focus on his study. His research on death was going well and his lesson with Professor Snape was progressing fine. He made friends with so many elves and the healers from St Mungo didn't look so sad anymore when Harry finally able to do some of the physical exercises in the therapy session. They smiled when he smiled. They were happy when Harry did whatever they asked. So he needed to do it perfectly.

That night he went to the library as usual, finding his usual spot under behind the racks of Herbiology section. Surprisingly, his research on death and potion brought him to poison and dreadful herbs. He continued from last night, but somehow the words just didn't make sense…

His eyes went black; his body slumped onto the floor. Harry James Potter reached his limit and fainted under his Invisibility Cloak.

* * *

The next morning, Snape was awoken by a visit from a panicked house elf.

"Harry Sir is gone, Snape Sir!"

Snape quickly woke up and went to the child's room to find the bed empty and cold as if it wasn't used last night. He knew it, something must be wrong with the child.

"Can you ask other elves to spread and search for Harry?"

"Yes sir, of course, sir!" the elf bowed and apparated out from the room. Snape meanwhile looking around, trying to find clue of whereabouts Harry might be that morning.

He opened the cupboard to see only a quarter of the whole space occupied. He grimaced. He never realied Harry owned that little of clothes. The trunk took majority of filled space. And then he looked around to find nothing childlike in the room. Nothing personal. It was just a chocolate frog and a mug on top of the table that showed the room belongs to someone named 'Harree Pottery'.

Snape promised himself he should take the child out shopping more often.

And then he remembered about the Potter heirloom Invisibility Cloak. Upon searching, he found that it was missing as well. Snape's suspicion increased now; maybe Harry took his Invisibility Cloak either to hide or do something elsewhere.

He went out and found the elf he ordered just now looking at him in big eyes.

"Harry sir is in the library sir! Between the book cases! But he is Invisible, sir!"

Snape quickly followed the elf and went to library. He found Harry sleeping beneath the Cloak. He looked peaceful and serene, almost death like. Snape almost had a heart attack when he though Harry died. He checked Harry's pulse and was relieved to find it still in the borderline of normal. Beside Harry were books on herbs and poison. Snape immediately knew the child was up to something, doing research like this until he collapsed. He needed to teach the child how to maintain his health once Harry woken up. He sighed in relief and went to check the other stuff. The boy looked like he hadn't get sleep for days. Nor he ate that much.

Snape grimaced. He had asked the house elf and he told him how little Harry actually ate. The boy seemed to hate his food, and ate something just out of politeness to house elves for making him any food. Also, the boy felt restless; as if he was trying to do everything at once. It was clear that Harry didn't know how to take care of himself; for no one ever taught him how to do it.

Everybody—like Dumbeldore, the whole wizarding world—expected so much from the child, or simply ordered him to (like the Dursley) and Harry continuously suffered from it. Maybe he, Serverus Snape, also had driven the boy to this state by constantly expecting Harry to achieve more. He decided to reduce their lesson time and let the child have more free evenings.

He gently took the child to Harry's room, deciding that infirmary might not be the best place for Harry and tucked him in. Harry still weighted less than what he should. The boy looked older with hollow cheek and dark rings under his eyes. He looked depressed and stressed.

Snape's chest clenched in guilt. He had once hated the guts out of this child because of old prejudice and past memories. The boy looked like James Potter, his school tormentor. He refused to evaluate the child, and with stereotype, it was easy to see Harry's similarity to James Potter: the hair, the built, the glasses. Snape refused to see the eyes behind the glasses, those green orbs that showed vulnerability Lily had.

When the child came to him for detention, Snape was busy finding the similarity between the evil spawn and his father. But after finding out what had actually happened with Harry—a childhood full of abuse that even upstage his own childhood trauma—Snape felt shameful. He still berated himself on why he fetched Harry too late. The child was already broken when he came—hiding behind Invisibility Cloak with half face hidden under swollen scar tissues showed how Harry had given up on everything and wished to disappear. It was just luck that the boy still didn't have the thought of killing himself. The boy was still under impression that he couldn't bring death upon himself—something that Harry unconsciously learnt from his fast healing ability. Snape was lucky that Harry was so broken he forgot to kill himself. The irony.

He closed the door behind him, now determined to protect the child more than ever. He could only apologize by protecting Harry from now on—the boy needed an adult to depend on, and Snape would want to be the adult for all that's worth. But with Dumbledore and the Dark Lord in the equations, it wouldn't be as simple as it sounds like.

* * *

Year two started like normal, or however normal a school of magic could be.

Harry was berated by the Professor when he woke up—and since then, Professor Snape kind of check his room every midnight and randomly at dawn, so Harry couldn't sneak into the library again. He started sleeping and it was actually good for his health. After three days, his appetite kind of returned, although the bitter taste and slimy feeling from his uncle's seed still linger in his throat. Professor Snape ordered him to eat breakfast together, and the Potion Master took every opportunity to feed him and making sure he swallowed what he bite.

He changed his schedule and started to borrow out library's books. Harry overcome his fear of destroying anything that he borrowed by making sure that the books all stayed safe inside his room. His research on death progressed slower than it was before. But Professor Snape made up for the loss by teaching him even more elaborate potions or spells. The physical therapy was getting more intense, since Harry broke almost all his limbs. His muscle were just repaired, and although he had his healing ability, the muscles and nerves sometimes connected to another wrong side/end and caused a bit of disruption in control. In such, Harry needed the therapy because he needed to regain perfect control of his limbs.

His birthday passed just like that—Harry didn't realize it was his birthday when he woke up to see a small pile of presents by his bed side. Still, because he forgot his own birthday, Harry ignored the pile and went to breakfast as usual with Professor Snape. He was then reminded of his birthday by the professor. And he went to open his present: two potions books from his professor, a pocket watch from Blaise, a very sharp looking dagger from the house elves (They loved to give him weird presents) as well as some sweets from his Slytherin dorm mates. Professor Snape informed him that he got more present than he saw, but they were all fro random people and his 'fans', so the presents were under quarantine and some house elves were texting each items sent to make sure it wasn't curse or bad for Harry.

Harry was amazed by the sheer number of present he got. He got 4 presents! Amazing! Never in his life had he any present before. His parents must be proud. He basked in the happiness for the whole day. Then his professor took him for a school supply shopping in Diagon Alley. Harry got his new set of textbook as well as potion ingredients, before he got treated ice cream by the professor. It was his first ice cream outings ever and he thanked his professor for that.

And his good mood continued until the Great Feast on the day every student returned to Hogwarts.

Blaise greeted him and together they sat on the second year place in Slytherin table. Marcus Flinch (which surprisingly, never graduated) came to Harry and told him that Seeker tryouts will be held in the first weekend, so Harry should come with his broom. Harry said he didn't have a broom, but Draco Malfoy stepped in and lent his broom to Harry. The sorting went well and they got a bunch of new Slytherins. Harry returned to his dorm with his mates and found that his stuffs were already inside his dorm wardrobe.

The next day classes started. To Harry's surprise, he got a lot of greetings from students he never knew, or the ones ignoring him before. The story of his abuse was the hottest gossips for weeks, and the students who fancy themselves as 'educated' because they read the gossip magazines all felt like knowing Harry so well. They talked to him and passed on their pity, their worry, their 'love' to him and try to 'encourage' him by saying pseudo-inspirational advices.

Blaise, who was with him for the whole day, felt so angry by the end of the day. He saw how Harry was treated last year and how people hypocritically pretended that they didn't bully/ignore Harry. It irritated him how some students even pretended like they knew Harry so well as if they had been his best friends. One little Gryffindor named Colin Creevey actually stalked Harry and snapped everything with his muggle camera. Even Blaise could see how uncomfortable that was for Harry.

Harry mostly took it as it came. He thanked all of them and smiled adorably. Unbeknown to him, it made everybody around him wanted to protect the petite boy. His Slytherin mates started to protect Harry—hiding him from the attention from masses—by giving wrong direction to people, kept Harry safe inside their common room, or sitting around him so that other students would not go too near to Harry.

And Harry, being Harry, was oblivious to the attention and protection. His mind was too wrapped in his death research and studies to realize what happened around him. Professor Snape has told his Slytherin Snakes that Harry was now his ward; and he expected them to treat Harry better than they used to. Thus, Harry potter started his protected second year at Hogwarts in a blissful obliviousness.

* * *

In his first Transfiguration class, Harry found the black book in his bag. He didn't know how the book ended up there, but since he forgot to bring some extra parchments, he opted to use the book, just for one page, to write the notes on the board. Surely one page wouldn't hurt.

After he finished writing, suddenly the ink disappeared.

_Hi, my name is Tom Riddle. Are you a second year student, taking transfiguration?_

Harry was shocked and he quickly closed the book. Blaise noticed it and asked what happened; Harry shook his head and opened the book again.

The words were still there, but his notes were gone.

So Harry wrote: 'I am sorry for using your book. I just need to write some notes and I don't bring any parchment with me. May I please get my notes back? I promise I won't write in this book again.'

The words disappeared, and suddenly his notes were back. Harry as surprised and he found a note by the end.

_Please don't be silly. Of course you can use this book for notebook. I have charmed this book to hold as many information as possible, and you can retreated them afterwards._

Harry smiled. 'Thank you very much. You must be very good with charm to be able to do something special like this. It is very convenient. Thank you again for letting me to use the book.'

_You are welcome._

Harry felt something familiar with the book. Something he knew and the way the book replied felt a bit like someone he knew so well. But he wasn't sure who, and why. Yet he had his class to pay attention to and soon he was busy using the notes and transfigured his cup into a teapot by his first try. He won fifteen points to Slytherin for that. And somehow, it made Ron Weasley's scowled at him deeper.

* * *

The notebook proved to be more useful than he thought. Harry brought it almost everywhere in the next two days, and he filled it in with notes from his classes. Sometimes the notebook would comment and told him a better way to achieve the spells/making the potions/ etc. Interestingly, the book seemed always right. Blaise commented on how Harry always wrote on the same book, and Harry told him about how the book can hold countless information. Blaise was a bit curious about it, stating that a book with self-conscious might be a dangerous artefact. Harry rejected the idea and promised Blaise that it would be fine. He was fine and so far the book had helped him a lot.

Sometimes the book even asked him about everyday stuff, or about what happened in the last decades and Harry gladly written down everything he knew: the Dark Lord Voldemort, his death and the returned peace to wizarding world. But since the boy didn't believe in his role as the Dark Lord's vanquisher, he didn't write anything about it, as well as telling the book that his parents died of an accident. But they loved him and he got a will. The book soothed him after that and didn't ask about Harry's parent anymore. It was in moments like those the book really reminded Harry of Marvolo. But of course he didn't tell anyone about it.

When Harry started to write down his 'death' research, the book suddenly shook a bit and it commented.

_I never know you are this fascinated by death._

And they started to discuss about death and its property: Harry was surprised that the book also knew most of the thing he had research in the library. The book also expressed his surprise at how good Harry's knowledge about death was. Then the book started to tell him about necromancy and magical ritual concerning death. Harry drunk the information as fast as he could, and he didn't realize that he had lost a whole night learning the basic of necromancy theory from the book.

The next day he looked tired and haggard. Blaise tried to make him go to the infirmary, but Harry smiled and said he was fine. It was their first DADA class, and students before them said that the professor was awesome.

They entered the room to see that the defence room was filled with many dummies and objects which Harry could feel some dark magic from. The professor seemed to notice straightaway his presence in the room, as he snapped his head to see Harry. Harry looked up to see a man, probably in his late twenties, with blonde hair and overall handsome features. The most prominent feature of this professor was some kind of subtle magic around his eyes. It was blue in colour; but Harry knew it was not the real colour.

"Welcome, Child." The professor smiled, and Harry felt warmth washed all over him. "You look tired. Are you alright?"

Familiarity filled Harry's mind. He knew this man. Somehow. From somewhere. And this man knew him as well. He stopped walking and bit his lower lips. Somehow his chest started throbbing. Why did the professor felt so familiar, yet making his chest pained as if he was betrayed? He wanted to runaway from the professor. The professor felt too familiar for his own likings.

When he saw Harry frozen, something in Blaise's chest made him want to take Harry away from the professor. So, Blaise took Harry's arm. "Come, Harry. Sorry, professor. He had a bad night but he insisted to go to class. I will make sure he is fine, sir."

The professor looked angry for a second, but changed into indifference the next. "I will leave him to you, then. Please sit down, Mr…?"

"Zabini, sir. Blaise Zabini."

Other students started to fill in the room and the class started. True to the rumour, the class was intense, but the way Professor Lockart taught them made everything seemed interesting. The professor dismissed some questions regarding his popular books, stating that the books was just book, and he was there as a teacher not an author. Throughout the whole class, Harry could feel that the Professor was looking at him at every single moment possible. Harry refrained himself from watching the professor's movement, thus he immersed himself in the textbook they were supposed to read and the spell they were practicing. But the intense staring made his skin hot; Harry blushed the whole time and he felt uncomfortable. They learned a spell of defence: 'Protego', that day.

After the class, Blaise hurriedly took Harry's arm and together they escaped from the room quickly. Harry wondered why, and when he asked, Blaised answered.

"I don't like the way he was looking at you the whole time. He looked like he wanted to eat you whole, Harry."

Harry swallowed hard and let himself be dragged to the glass house.

* * *

In canon, Harry is portrait-ed as a hero. a natural gryffindor. I dont think it make sense. See the thing is a child who had been abused for so long with no one to protect him would never have a good self respect, no self conscience and zero self esteem. you might think his depression is overrated in this story (as you called it: pathetic); but I stand by my view of portraying Harry like this.


	11. Chapter 11

Betaed! By Blind_Alchemist sama. XD Any other mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

* * *

Professor Albus Percival-Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was in a huge dilemma at the moment. His beloved lemon drops wouldn't help him this time, even though he had tried eating five of them at the same time. His life still more sour than the lemon drops currently dissolving in his mouth.

His visit to Gringotts with Harry and Serverus had turned into quite a disaster. Not only had his attempts at manipulation become known, the amount of Galleons he'd used to fund the Order of Phoenix also were expected to dry up within the next two years. He couldn't stop Harry from becoming "Lord Potter." The only good thing about the whole business was that Serverus had now become the boy's protector, which made everything easier. A bit, anyway. He was aware that Serverus had already begun to question his sanity. But so far he could still control the Potions Master, as well as Hogwarts in general.

It was all for the greater good. He expected people wouldn't be able to understand, as they were all childish compared to him. He had seen so much of life, more than they had, even when one combined all their experiences together. He had seen how the last war had destroyed everything—including Gerald Ginderwald, the man he'd loved, who'd ultimately betrayed him and the entire Wizarding world. And here he stood again; the only shield between the ignorant Wizarding people along with the Muggles, gainst extremists like Tom Riddle.

It wasn't as though he  _wanted_  to be the leader of the Light, or Headmaster, or the Head of MCW, or the Supreme Mugwump. The positions were all rather meaningless. If he could choose, he'd only want Ariana and his brother Aberforth back. To live together, to be one of the ignorant Wizarding families who resided in one of the remote corners of Wales. With Gerald of course as his partner, happily living together as ignorant people.

No, he had chosen to oppose his lover, to bring back the peace and goodness that should constitute the norm of the Wizarding world. Did he end up regretting everything? Yes. Would he change anything if he could? No. He had done what he should have done, and the peace of the last 11 years, subsequent to the existence of Tom Riddle, who had become Voldemort, was all thanks to him. He had chosen to be a leader, and now he needed to continue on, despite knowing that this was not a straight, painless path. He bore his own sins. He knew he was sacrificing an innocent child to save the rest of the world. But then, what was one soul compared to the masses? And to be fair, it was all already written down by Fate itself. The prophecy had said so. It wasn't he, Dumbledore, who had chosen Harry Potter as the sacrificial lamb. Everything he was doing was for the greater good, and Harry was just a single sacrifice required for the whole Wizarding society.

But when he witnessed how the boy had clutched at the will and had cried his heart out in silence, Dumbledore, for the first time in eleven years, questioned himself and his deeds.

What had he done?

The child looked… absolutely broken. Utterly miserable. His silent crying showed how he was used to bearing everything in silence. To know that nobody cared about him, to know that what he felt only mattered to himself. To know that no one would understand or care. He didn't share those tears; he silently bowed and clutched the will to his chest with his fragile thin hands. Those tears… were painfully honest. And to think he was only eleven…

What had he done?

He was sacrificing the child for the masses; but those masses knew happiness. They knew what it felt like to share, to be happy, to have a family. And this child, chosen by the prophecy, cried in silence because he had no one who would care. He was already bearing the burden of being an orphan, the harsh reality of life, and he still was destined to die? Just for people who wouldn't appreciate his sacrifice?

Dumbledore couldn't justify his own actions to himself. Yes, he had sacrificed a lot for the masses himself, but at least he was acknowledged as their beloved leader. He was appreciated. The child, on the other hand… Dumbledore sighed. Dumbledore still remembered how the child had told him what his life was like—he was repeatedly bullied, received by no one, he had been kidnapped and ignored and forgotten—by the people he was going to protect and be sacrificed for.

It wasn't fair, not at all.

What had he done?

He had sent the child to the Muggle-relatives' house due to the blood protection status. He knew the Muggles weren't the kindest Muggles that existed, as his deputy headmaster had told him. He knew that he was leaving Harry Potter in a household that would shape his childhood, maybe with a bit harshness and neglect. But he'd never realized the extent of their abuse... the child whom he saw in St. Mungo's was broken, physically and mentally. For a child to love the idea of death, to want death…

What had he done?

And another thing to worry about was the return of the magical artefact. Nobody was aware, but the Invisibility Cloak was one of the three famed Deathly Hallows. Only his Elder Wand and the Resurrection Rings could match its value. He couldn't surrender the Elder Wand. If anybody knew about its true worth, it would become dangerous. But he had a contract to fulfil. He could always offer instead a part of his magical core, but then again, he wasn't sure how much he should offer. Moreover, because of the magical contract, his core wouldn't be able to grow back, unlike what had happened with the Mirror of Erised. He couldn't afford losing his power-who, then, would protect the people from the Dark Lord?

Dumbledore was pretty sure the boy had the Stone… but he had no proof, and now that he knew the extent of what he'd done, he couldn't bring himself to force the child to give it up. If the child had it, it was his prerogative. He deserved it. Harry Potter surely deserved more than what he currently had.

And maybe he should surrender the Elder Wand as well… Maybe. Yes, he would arm the child with some weapons, hoping that in the end, maybe Harry would conjure the power to change his own destiny, and kill Tom.

Maybe.

Dare he gamble with Fate?

* * *

It was just his luck when he realized that the person he had possessed was Gilderoy Lockhart, idiot extraordinaire. Annana attacked the first person she had seen in Hogsmeade that day, which turned out to be Lockhart, who had been returning from Hogwarts after his interview with Dumbledore. Voldemort had only realized this when he had probed the man's memory and had found that he would be the next semester's new DADA teacher.

Just his luck. He had wanted the job for so long. He had lost his chance to teach when he'd left Quirell's body, but now he'd secured another chance. And this way, he would be close to Harry. He could watch the child from a close distance. He'd honestly missed the boy.

No, he didn't miss the boy. Harry was just a good… minion.

Voldemort had also discovered, in the idiot's memory, that he was a famous author of biographic books that chronicled stolen memories. He saw how Gilderoy Lockhart had Obliviated each and every single main character in the books, metaphorically replacing himself into their shoes and writing about the adventure. He'd received good money and publicity from doing all this. Voldemort felt pure disgust towards the man; oh, how the Wizarding world had fallen, with so many idiots like Gilderoy Lockhart and the current Minister, Cornelius Fudge, in it.

The Stone had given him the Elixir of Life, which he religiously drank every morning. His magical core returned to him slowly, and currently he was able to perform as well as a normal wizard. Gilderoy Lockhart had a mediocre magical core at best, and Voldemort easily absorbed it all into his power. He missed Harry's magic. The difference between Harry's and Lockhart's magic was like the sensual difference between that of sewage water and the best wine. But he settled for second best for now, since he wanted the boy in perfect health, and not damaged in any way. Now he just needed to wait until his full power was returned, and he could leave the idiot's body.

He had changed his plans. He would not resort to force and violence now. He used to control people with his strong charisma when he was still sane, but eventually he'd resorted to control using fear, due to his obsession regarding defying death. As his power had increased, his paranoia about death ultimately defeated him, and Voldemort chose to mutilate his own soul into a Horcrux. In a way, Harry was very similar to him. They both had this obsessive fascination about an identical subject, death. But the purposes for their fixations couldn't be more different. Whereas Harry was obsessed with the notion of death because he wanted to die, Voldemort was obsessed with the notion of death because he never wanted to die.

He realized that fear had gained him nothing. He needed to re-establish his charisma, and the easiest way to do so was to combine his powers into his first Horcrux, the diary. After returning to his full charismatic self, he would come and control the Ministry of Magic from the background, playing the puppeteer. He would not resort to violence anymore. The Wizarding World was comprised of a population of idiots who followed blindly whatever their Minister said. It was easier to plan behind the scenes. Thus, he needed to get his old connections back.

His first stop was Lucius Malfoy. The man was a verifiable master in politics and manipulation. Voldemort came and sensed the fear that returned to the man, but because he needed full cooperation and not unreliable fear-controlled submission, he was ready to offer an equal collaboration with the man, instead of a master-slave relationship. Lucius also had his first Horcrux.

When he had seen, using Legilimency, that Lucius had misplaced his Horcrux with Harry Potter, Voldemort was beyond angry. He'd destroyed Malfoy's manor's guest room, and then had calmed down after he'd tortured Lucius into unconsciousness after several rounds of the Cruciatus curse. He did regain his common sense, but by then it was too late. So instead he played things by ear and had ordered Lucius (whom he'd Enervated back to consciousness) to prepare for his return into the political world.

But he would still use this once-in-a-year chance of becoming a professor in Hogwarts. He could stay by Harry, get back his Horcrux and prepare for his entrance into the political world. Now the main thing to do was to regain the diary from the boy. And make the boy loosen up for him.

Their first class wasn't exactly how Voldemort pictured it would be. He knew Harry was strong enough to sense him inside Lockhart's body. Harry had directly seen through his strong Glamour spell, the spell that was so complicated and impenetrable that even McGonagall had failed to sense anything. He saw how Harry's expression had become frozen and then turn into one of fear. Honestly it had hurt a bit, to see the child looking at him in apprehension. He'd spent the entire class watching the child. Harry looked physically better, if only a bit, from the last time he'd seen him in Lucius' memory. Voldemort was ready to embrace the child and make the fear go away. But then that  _idiot_  boy— _Blaise Zabini—_ took Harry away from him.  _Unforgiveable_.

But Harry's reaction was understandable, albeit a bit weird. Voldemort needed to do something about that fear to make the child receive him again. And being a teacher, he knew he had the power to be alone with the child. And he would abuse his power, to make Harry's trust come back to him. After all, he could give Harry as many detentions as he liked.

* * *

It had to be just his bad luck.

The day had started normally enough, like any other—breakfast with Blaise, and with Hedwig perched on his shoulder, eating bacon from his plate. They had two hours of DADA that morning. Blaise looked strangely worried, and he told Harry to watch himself in front of Lockhart. Blaise explained that he'd seen Professor Lockhart watching Harry like a hawk every single time they were having meals in the Great Hall during the last week.

Suddenly, said professor passed through the Hall, and he was smiling at them.

"Why, Mr. Zabini, Mr. Potter. Do you think I cannot be trusted?"

Blaise paled. Harry bit his lips, knowing that this wouldn't end up well. The professor smiled at them, but the smile made their skin crawl.

"Maybe you need to spend more time with me in order to get to know me a little better, hmm? Mr. Potter, detention with me tonight at eight. Be punctual. Mr. Zabini, you can come to me this afternoon, around four. Please be punctual as well."

Both boys gulped down and nodded.

Meanwhile, Snape watched the interaction from his place at the teachers' table.

* * *

The two-hour class of DADA that morning was a bit of a mental strain. Harry had somehow misplaced his textbook. He gained another quipping comment from his professor on how Harry was clumsy and lazy enough to have forgotten to prepare the textbook from the night before. Blaise tried to defend his friend, but Professor Lockhart seemed determined to add another detention to Harry's schedule. So Harry was booked for another detention with the Professor for the next day.

After that, Harry failed to correctly answer one of the questions the professor was asking the whole class, so the professor assigned another detention for Harry. Harry couldn't believe it. Three detentions in a row. Three detentions in a  _week_. Blaise was growling in anger and some of the other students also seemed to find it quite unfair. But Harry smiled and calmed them down. He was sure that he could survive these detentions from the professor. And it was not as though the professor didn't have any valid reason to punish him for being incompetent.

Blaise had to complete his detention first, and he went to Lockhart's office while trembling in trepidation. But by the time he had returned to the common room to get Harry so that they could both go to dinner, his mood was elevated, and Blaise was actually kind of praising the professor. Apparently the professor had given him a single tutorial time on Defence covering useful lie detector methods (such as by using Veritaserum, or by a complicated spell, or by simply being observant), and Blaise found it quite interesting. Yet when he realized that Harry was up next for detention, he warned his dear friend to be careful.

Harry only nodded silently in agreement, concentrating more on writing inside the diary (it had asked Harry to call him "Tom") and apologizing to it because he wouldn't be able to write much for the next three nights. Tom wasn't very happy with this news.

_What exactly did you do to make him so determined to give you that many detentions, Harry? That is three detentions in a row!_

Harry apologized again, writing in the book, as the dinner hour slipped by. In the end, Tom forgave him, but not before throwing a tantrum for another half an hour. When Harry was at long last ready to close the diary and eat, there was almost nothing left on the table. He didn't mind, though. Harry only ate a bit of salad and the last piece of grilled fish. Blaise frowned at Harry's habit of sacrificing eating for other, less important activities. Pansy Parkinson commented on his small appetite and it started a discussion on how eating habits ultimately determined one's height.

"You eat like a bird, Potter. Don't blame others when you turn out to be the shortest fifth-year Slytherin in three years."

Harry blushed and managed to stuff up another potato in his mouth. Blaise smirked and Pansy grinned. Draco, however, added salt to the wound.

"But I don't think eating would help—look at him, he is as petite as Daphne's little sister. Maybe you were born with the wrong gender, Potter?"

"Yup, he'd be so cute if he were a girl. So tiny," Theodore Nott added in snicker.

Harry blushed furiously, and between his mouthfuls, he managed to retort back, "I am not a girl!"

"Yah," Blaise smirked. "You only stand as tall as my chin."

Harry puffed his cheeks, but it made him choke from the potato. Everybody around him laughed hard while Blaise helped the poor boy by patting Harry's back. Then the conversation turned to Quidditch, and Harry was reminded that he had his first practice the day he had his last detention.

Frowning, Harry decided to tell Marcus Flint. The news was taken quite badly by the Quidditch captain, but the other second year students mentioned how unfair the detention was, so at least they gathered that it wasn't Harry's fault. Flinch gritted his teeth and promised he would ask Professor Snape to take over the conflicting detention so that Harry could go practice with them.

* * *

Harry left Tom's diary inside the Slytherin dorm and went to Professor Lockhart's personal quarters. His mind was filled with the verbal warnings from Blaise, and surprisingly, from all his other classmates. They had expressed their concern about him because they had seen how unfair the professor was being. Three detentions in a row just due to trivial mistakes? Furthermore, it wasn't as though Lockhart were another Snape. The perplexing thing was, Lockhart had only targeted Harry. And there wasn't a single point from Slytherin that had been taken down. So clearly the professor was aiming for another goal, which maybe was personal one-on-one time with Harry.

Theodore Nott had even offered to put a Tracking Charm on Harry so that they would know if Lockhart decided to suddenly kidnap Harry. Harry waved them away, blushing and thinking that they were just thinking too much and letting their imaginations run wild. He was answered by looks of exasperation from his mates, who were all sighing and commenting on how 'gullible' Harry was.

"You'd never know the meaning of the term  _attraction_  even when it comes to you up the arse," Pansy in particular had commented, whereupon the boys had flushed and shushed her.

"Come in."

Harry stepped inside the room. It reminded him of the Slytherin common room, with all the silver and green colours and some serpent-themed decorative displays. The professor was seated on one of the plush sofa chairs, and he gestured towards Harry to sit on a three seated sofa that was next to his own sofa.

"The colour of the sofa compliments your eyes," Professor Lockhart smiled gently. Harry swallowed hard; all the warnings from his mates suddenly filled his head. The professor's smile  _felt_  more carnal than what it superficially showed.

"I… I am sorry, Professor."

"Do you know what exactly you are sorry for, child?"

Harry looked up and found the professor's eyes staring at him intensely. The colour of the man's eyes changed, from blue to reddish, with black slits for pupils. A feeling of familiarity filled his chest. Harry knew those eyes. He couldn't recall from where, but he knew. He could sense and feel the aura of the man's magic. It was darker than what he had expected, and for Harry to be able to sense the aura that strongly, the man had to be as powerful as Dumbledore.

Harry bit his lower lip, thinking frantically of why he was there. "Because… Because I don't trust you, professor. And I forgot my textbook today, as well as to be unable to answer the question during class, professor."

The professor smiled again; this time, his fingers came onto Harry's cheek and trailed it softly down to Harry's jaw.

"Right. How do you think I should give you detention tonight, Harry?"

Harry looked away. He tried to find anything that might be suitable for his detention. Professor Snape always had a lot of unwashed cauldrons; it was easy in his case to nominate "cleaning cauldrons" as a proper punishment. But inside the room, there was nothing that seemed to help him in this regard. The office was proper and prim, not a speckle of dust was anywhere, and honestly, Harry couldn't find any faults that he could mend.

"I… I am not sure, sir."

"Why don't we make it our special time, then? We can build the trust you appear to lack for me. Instead of punishing you, I can see that it is better to give you something else… a lesson, for example. Can you tell me what you find as an interesting subject?"

The professor was definitely sitting too close for his comfort. Harry felt his back starting to sweat. He had never felt more awkward and uncomfortable. He didn't know how to answer.

"It's… up to you, sir."

"This is not about me, child. It's about  _your_  education." The man smiled. His fingers trailed softly back onto Harry's cheek. "What are you thinking about now?"

Harry bit his lips. "You… you feel familiar, sir."

"Really?" There was a hint of satisfaction in the man's voice, but Harry couldn't understand why. And then suddenly the man stood up, leaving the sofa and making a beeline for a book on one of the shelves. "How about if we read this together?"

Harry nodded, and they spent the whole two hours reading from the book. The professor actually sat beside him, and while Harry read the passages out loud, the professor's hand circled possessively around Harry's waist. The book was about traditional Defence rituals, including the use of talismans and magical artefacts. It was surprisingly quite interesting, and Harry was steadily getting more deeply and deeply absorbed into the subject matter, until he completely forgot to read the passages it out loud.

Time passed and Harry was so immersed in reading the book that he didn't notice somebody going around him. A shadow cast over him, and he suddenly felt a kiss on his forehead. Harry snapped his head up and turned, finding the professor smiling at him.

"Sorry, child. It's time to get back. You can continue reading this tomorrow."

Harry blushed furiously. He was so embarrassed. He was supposed to read the book out loud as a punishment, and he had enjoyed himself too much instead. And a quick Tempus spell showed that it was almost time for curfew. Harry nodded, hurriedly stood up from the sofa, and returned the book to Professor Lockhart's lap.

"Tha..Thank you, sir."

"You are welcome, child. Now, run along; it is almost time for curfew."

Harry nodded, bowed a little and went away. His heart in his chest was beating fast. The ordeal had been so embarrassing and yet strangely calming as well. He'd felt just as he had in the library—alone and safe, with nobody around to disturb him—and he'd enjoyed the book immensely. He had even forgotten about the professor's presence in the room! And… the professor had  _kissed_  his forehead! Harry's cheeks were burning—it was really embarrassing!

When he turned around the next corner, he accidentally bumped into someone. Harry was pushed back and he fell on the floor. Blame his weightless body that the impact pushed him back that hard.

"Are you alright?"

An outstretched hand was offered. Harry took it and found himself staring at Ron Weasley's face. Both boys were frozen for a moment, and the red-headed boy retracted his offered hand as though Harry's hand were on fire.

"What… What's a slimy Slytherin doing here? It's almost time for curfew!"

"…What about yourself?" Harry retorted.

"I am searching for my wayward rat Scabbers! How about you? You must be doing something illegal, you slimy Slytherin!"

"No, I am not!" Harry yelled back.

"Then what? Oh…. the detention?"

Harry looked away. As much and as hard as he had trained himself to smile at everyone, Ron Weasley had been such a jerk to him that he couldn't even force a phony smile. And then the memory of the embarrassing detention made his face flush. Harry looked away and pulled himself up, pretending to ignore the boy. He walked past Weasley swiftly. This didn't go over well with the other boy, and Harry felt his arm being caught in Weasley's stronger grip.

"Wait! You can't just ignore me like that!"

Harry turned to him, wondering what it was all about. His cheeks were blushing still, but this time not from embarrassment. Harry really felt bothered by the boy; Ron Weasley was his main bully, and he didn't want to be around the boy for longer than a few seconds. He'd had enough of the Duddleys of the world.

"What?" Harry asked softly. "What do you want?"

Weasley blushed a bit, and then suddenly he spoke up again. "Your face is really red. What happened? Did the fall hurt you that much? Was the detention that bad?"

Harry jerked his arm back, turning away. It wasn't any of the red head's concern. It was almost time for curfew. He needed to go back to his common room. So Harry left the red headed boy in the corridor and ran to the dungeon where the Slytherin dorm was.

* * *

His mates were all over him. They asked for every single detail on how the detention went. Harry blushed hard when he remembered the stupid and embarrassing thing he had done—and he told them the truth, that he was immersed in reading until he had lost track of time.

Draco, Pansy, and Theo looked sceptical, especially after they had seen the blush on Harry's face. Blaise, on the other hand, looked very worried. But all of them released Harry in the end, letting the small boy slip into his pyjamas and go to bed. It was a bit of a strange day, but not a bad one, Harry reasoned to himself.

And because he went straight to sleep, he forgot to bid "goodnight" to Tom.

* * *

Two detentions with the boy had made Voldemort forget about all the problems in the world. He honestly viewed all the other Hogwarts students purely as potential slaves or as ignorant fools, but every single moment of torture in trying to teach all the stupid imbeciles during classes was washed away with the two hours of pure blissful privacy shared between him and Harry.

Harry was blushing adorably when he came the next night—Voldemort wasn't sure why the boy was so shy. They had done nothing but read together. And when Harry became absorbed in the text, the boy stopped caring about his surroundings and was mentally transported into his own world. This was something that Voldemort approved of, because the boy needed it. The boy needed both the distraction from his everyday life, and the knowledge. He could see that Harry had been doing some studying when they weren't together—he was curious of what, but he suspected something concerning death since it was Harry's ultimate passion—and the boy presently showed increased interest in books and in gaining knowledge. Maybe now, Voldemort could convince the boy to read most of the books in the Slytherin library again.

So far he hadn't seen any proof that Harry had been using his Horcrux—the boy still behaved as though he were sane, and there was no residual signature of Tom Riddle's anywhere on the boy's core. But he knew that, even so, it wasn't a good indicator—Harry's magic was strong enough to override others'. He needed to make sure that the boy hadn't used the diary. Somehow, Voldemort would feel better if he knew for certain that Tom Riddle had never sunk his hook into Harry. Blame it on his possessiveness, but Harry was Voldemort's. No one could get Harry without killing him first.

Or maybe Harry had given the diary to somebody else? Given Harry's personality, he would always give what he had to others, despite his own deprivation. So Voldemort needed to design another mechanism to fish his first Horcrux out. And he knew a definite way to do that.

" _Annana, come_ _here_ _."_

The huge serpent entered the room through a big pipe in the ceilings. Voldemort smiled. He had managed to connect the Chamber of Secrets with his current personal quarters. The Basilisk had free access to his room, and would come whenever he asked.

 _Yessss, massster?_ the serpent hissed in satisfaction.  _I just had the best meal. A very juicy feline. I played with it before I devour_ _ed_ _the delicious meat._

" _Oh, really?"_ Voldemort smiled. " _How about I give you another thing to play with?"_

Annana hissed in happiness, but then her tongue sensed something else in the air.

_Harry? Was the boy here, Tom?_

" _Yess. He was here."_

_I miss him. When can I meet Harry again? Soon?_

" _Soon."_ Voldemort smiled. Yes, soon. Very soon.

* * *

Serverus Snape was not so happy.

He didn't know that he was only one out of several unhappy people in the castle, but at the moment, he didn't care. All he cared about was Harry's well being. Upon hearing all the complaints and verbal support from his little Slytherin snakes, he realized there was something unhealthy behind Lockhart's sudden attention on Harry.

Assigning a detention just because the boy didn't bring his book to class! Five points deducted from Slytherin should have been enough. No, it sounded more like Lockhart had purposely singled out Harry for any minor infraction and had assigned detention to the boy. And the only rational explanation behind this detention assigning was that the blonde peacock wanted Harry's time. Truthfully, no sane teacher would ever sacrifice their precious free time solely to supervise a student's detention.

And tonight, Flint came into his office and personally requested for him to save Harry so that they could let him practice Quidditch. Snape decided it would be best if he settled everything now—show Lockhart who was boss, and warn him to stay away from Harry. And he could use the magical influence of Quidditich on Harry, to make the child exercise and become healthier, as well as make friends inside Slytherin.

He increased his pace towards the DADA professor's quarters, preparing his wand. He knew he could win any duel that might be instigated, but it would be best if they could resolve the matter in peace. He knocked on the door, but nobody came to open it. So instead he unlocked the door and entered, fully knowing he was breeching the other professor's privacy. As the Head of Slytherin House in Hogwarts, Snape had a bit of power over the tight security of the castle, and he was entrusted with the ability to unlock any door within the castle.

What he saw shocked him. The room itself felt like the embodiment of Slytherin's common room, with all the serpent motifs and silver-green theme. He found his object of interest in the middle of the room, silently reading a giant tome that was balanced on his thin thighs. But the sight that made Snape's blood boil out of control was the other adult in the room.

The blonde idiot was all over Harry—one hand rested on Harry's waist, and his face was so close to the boy's hair, Snape would bet he was inhaling Harry's scent—and he was smiling like a lecherous paedophile.

"HARRY!" Snape shouted loudly, shattering what seemed like a magical moment for Lockhart. Both the boy and the professor turned to see him, and Harry blushed furiously. His expression was all Snape needed to confirm his. He looked uncomfortable. That bastard Lockhart was forcing himself onto Harry!

"Come here!"

"Serverusss," Lockhart suddenly hissed, and Snape thought that the author-turned-professor's eyes appeared red for a moment. Snape saw how the blonde's arm slid tighter around Harry's waist. "Harry is having detention with me."

"I think that is enough, Gilderoy," Snape hissed back. "Three detentions in a row, over a forgotten textbook—it is not appropriate, Gilderoy. Your agenda is too obvious. I will take the matter off your hands—I can find a more suitable detention for Ha.. Potter. Potter! Come with me!"

The boy looked between his two professors, and in the end he decided to follow Snape. Snape was the better choice, since the man had done nothing but help him since the summer, whereas Harry, frankly, was still awkward around his DADA professor.

Snape nodded for a bit and took the child away.

He failed to notice the angry hissing coming from behind him when he closed the door behind him.

* * *

The Quidditch practice was an amusing experience for Harry. The boy was given the Snitch to catch, and he captured in within the first 5 minutes of practice. Flint assumed that Harry had been following the Snitch closely, so he ordered Harry to fly (which made Harry a source of amusement for the other members of the Quidditch team as well—the boy flew like he breathed) around, and then he secretly released the Snitch. It took Harry another 10 minutes to catch it.

The practice turned into a showcase of Harry's skills to the whole team—Flint, who was full of passion, couldn't contain his excitement as he released ten Snitches, ordering Harry to catch them all. Harry, following orders as usual, flew and caught all of them in about 30 minutes, which was incredible. The boy even caught the last Snitch with his teeth, when his hands were already full of other Snitches.

When the practice ended, he was ushered to the bathroom, whereupon they all happily accepted the smallest boy of their team as their new star Seeker. Then they returned to the dungeon, walking in a single group and cracking jokes amongst themselves (true, they were Slytherins, but they were allowed to be children when there were no other students around—they just need to maintain their hostile farce in front of other Houses, Gryffindor especially). It was then they found the graffiti spelled out in blood, and the sad-looking petrified dog hanging on the wall.

**The Chamber of Secret has been opened. Enemies of the heir, beware.**

Beside the writing, Harry noticed that it was Fang, Hagrid's dog, who was hanging stiffly on the wall.

Someone  _screamed_.


	12. Chapter 12

_The Chamber of Secret_ _s_ _is open,_  Harry wrote in the diary after returning to his dorm,  _and Hagrid's dog was_ _P_ _etrified._

His team mates weren't the only ones who had gone into shock mode. Their screams brought a lot of other students from other Houses running towards where the message was scrawled on the wall. They were shocked as well and some of them even fainted. Even the teachers were surprised and paled when they saw the message on the wall. Hagrid was called, and he took the news really hard. Upon seeing his dog's Petrified body, he started to sob, and ironically, it was Filch who came forward and patted the half giant. Apparently Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat, had been missing since last week, and hadn't since returned. Hagrid and Filch bonded together over the loss of their pets, while the professors asked every student to return to their dorm.

The diary shook a bit before absorbing what Harry wrote before replying,  _Do you know what the Chamber of Secrets_ _is_ _?_

Harry thought for a second. If he admitted his knowledge of the Chamber of Secrets, he would reveal that he knew of Marvolo. And truthfully, he didn't want to reveal the latter. It was partly because of his promise to Marvolo to never tell anyone, but also, a bit of emotion welling up inside his chest somehow prevented him from sharing the memory of Marvolo to anyone. It was painful enough that the man had left him because Harry had proved useless; but was Harry at least entitled to keep his own private memory of Marvolo to himself? After all, things in his life had gone a lot better during the time he'd been possessed by the professor. So yes—he decided that he wanted to keep the memory of Marvolo to himself.

_No. I don't believe you do. Do you truly?_

And Harry suddenly found himself in the middle of a hazy world, and physically smack-dab in front of a handsome fifth year. The boy smiled at him.

"Hi, I am Tom Riddle. Nice to meet you, Harry."

Harry nodded, and he followed the older boy through the whole sequence of 'memories' of Hagrid opening the Chamber of Secrets.

It was weird, really. And Harry couldn't help but wonder: Was Hagrid a Parseltongue? That was the only way to open the door to the Chamber and talk to Annana. If he was, then  _awesome_ , maybe Harry could ask him to take him down to the Chamber and meet Annana again. But then again, Hagrid had killed people using his pet giant acromantula. Could spiders' glares kill, like how Annana normally killed? But then, why would he go and Petrify his own dog?

Tom, on the other hand, was waiting for some kind of verbal response from Harry. The boy was a weird one. He was so obsessed with death, drinking all the information he could about Necromancy (which was quite worrying, especially considering the boy's tender age). Also, he'd never told Tom what his real family name was. Tom could see that the boy must be at least half magical blood, or even of Mudblood origin, but for his own purposes, he couldn't afford to be choosy. And the boy was at least entertaining enough, in some sense. The boy always had the strangest reactions to any kind of stimuli. Just like now. Usually people would react in anger/amusement when they caught wind of something as mysterious as the Chamber of Secrets; but the boy looked as though this type of discovery were an everyday occurrence; he even asked about Hagrid more than about the Chamber itself.

Realizing he couldn't get a more enthusiastic response, Tom sighed and then proceeded to teach the boy a bit more about Necromancy. Harry responded better to this, and that day they argued about the nature of death. Necromancy came into the picture again, and this time Tom told Harry how Necromancy could be used as a medium to control the dead. It sparked interest in the boy, who couldn't understand how people could make the dead come back to life. If that were the case, then there must be ways to pass through the gate more than once, Harry argued, to call the souls of the dead and return them to their previous bodies.

Tom pointed out that it wasn't the  _soul_  that returned. Making an army of zombies only required that the Necromancer put some kind of control over the souls belonging to the dead bodies (shells that had been emptied of their souls). Harry argued that if that were the case, then Necromancers did nothing to affect souls themselves— they just obtained control of empty shells; thus, Necromancy wasn't about the study of death, or communicating with the dead. It was more a means for controlling empty vessels in the living world. If this were the case, then a Necromancer could not claim the ability to connect to the dead through the gate.

Faced with such an argument, Tom was forced to take some time to think, and finally he replied. He couldn't really find a plausible argument over Harry, since he couldn't do additional research in his current state, but once he could possess Harry, he would research what the boy was talking about. Instead, he delayed any answers to the questions and told Harry all about the Deathly Hallows. He explained to Harry that the tale of the Deathly Hallows wasn't a simple children's bedtime story; the tale had a grain of truth in it. And it was believed that the Hallows were created by the very first generation of Necromancers in order to control and win over death. Harry was fascinated with Tom's teachings, and forgot all about his earlier Necromancy-related questions.

Both of them decided to stop the discussion when they realized they had been talking for more than 3 hours. Harry needed his sleep and he bid Tom goodbye. Tom, the living embodiment of a diary, was amused. The Horcrux had actually found the arguments between the two of them interesting. Harry wasn't half as stupid as he'd thought of the boy before. And his magic was so sweet… maybe Tom should let Harry stay alive after being resurrected back as Lord Voldemort. As a pet, maybe.

And it brought to his mind another matter: who'd opened the Chamber? The only ones in the universe who could possibly open the Chamber were either himself or some other Parseltongue. Yet there weren't any other records of other Parseltongues, not in the last many years; surely Harry would tell him if there were. This was very intriguing and he needed to find out who did open the Chamber. After all, it was an insult to 'Lord Voldemort's' name if somebody else, who was not Slytherin's Heir, used Annana for their own amusement. And the sound of this new message was a direct challenge to him.

Yes, he would uncover everything, once he possessed the boy's body.

* * *

The news regarding the opening of the Chamber of Secrets didn't settle well within the student body. Hermione Granger, the genius know-it-all from Gryffindor, started the whole chain of questions by asking their Transfiguration professor about the said Chamber. Everybody listened with great attention, all except for Harry Potter, because the boy already knew all about the Chamber. He busily wrote in his diary while the professor gave a cursory explanation of what had happened. And then after that, every single student apart from Harry started their quest for knowledge, searching for more information about the Chamber.

Naturally, the Gryffindors (except for Hermione Granger and some other studious ones) gave up their searches within a day, but many Hufflepuffs persisted longer than the Ravenclaws, although with less resources. Ravenclaws purely looked at the subject it from a logical and academic point of view. And Slytherins were calmly following whatever thread of gossip that passed through by Hufflepuff House while peeking through the research done by Ravenclaw House. Harry was ignorant of the whole charade, as usual.

Little did the boy know that the Tom Riddle inside the diary was getting impatient. Tom Riddle had set his sights on getting in Harry's mind, and, in theory, he should have been able to possess the boy within three weeks of their first conversation (since they had been talking for more than a few hours every single day). But now, not only was Harry still maintaining his distance from him, Tom couldn't even manipulate Harry's mind. He still communicated through the pages of the book with Harry. He couldn't get out and take over the boy's body, though. And the boy was now immune to his manipulative techniques. He could feel that the boy was currently always keeping his distance. What was happening?

Harry, ignorant as always of what was happening around him, wrote down that he would be having a meeting with Professor Snape that night, so he wouldn't be able to write much to Tom. Of course, the diary told the boy it was fine. So Harry happily returned to his class and managed to change the cup on his desk into a hummingbird within the first flick of his wand. That earned him his usual reward package: five points for Slytherin, his Slytherin mates' approval and Ron Weasley's scowl.

That last one made him wonder. What was the problem with the red headed boy?

* * *

"Come in."

Harry found that nothing had changed since he'd moved back to the dorm. The Potions Master's quarters were still as tidy as ever, with hints of the smell of weird herbs. Harry sat down in one of the chairs, waiting for the professor to turn his attention towards him and order him to do something.

"Harry." The professor started to speak, only to stop in the middle of his thoughts and start to look constipated, "…I… I am here if you need… need to talk."

"I don't understand, sir. What do you mean?"

"You can... you can tell me what happened with Lockhart."

Harry blushed. "Nothing happened, sir. I was just… just enjoying some books when I was with him, and I forgot the time."

"Child." Snape looked at him in pity. Harry didn't like it, but he didn't know what his guardian was thinking about. "It is not the right thing to do. He should never do anything that makes you feel… uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable?" Harry asked, his mind clouded with bits of confusion and suspicion. The Harry's Box inside his head started to shake, threatening to open and pour its insides out. "What do you mean, professor?"

"Did he… did he force something on you? Did he touch you inappropriately, or did he make you do something that made you feel terrible… or dirty?"

The word  _dirty_  triggered the memory Harry had previously kept tightly inside the Harry's Box. The image of him going up and down on his uncle's manhood and sucking the contents came out of the box, nauseating Harry. Everything in his vision became blurry and his mouth was once again filled with the putrid, vile stuff. He paled and started vomiting his dinner all out on the floor. Tears were falling down his cheeks. His body was trembling in fear and disgust.

_No. No more, please._

The taste of semen inside his mouth made him vomit a lot more.  _No. Not this. Not now_. He hated this, so much. Please stop. Please? Please?

_Marvolo, help me._

No, no. Marvolo wouldn't be able to help him. He should stop being dependent on the professor who'd left him. He needed to endure everything using his own strength. Wringing out the last but most forceful convulsions, Harry vomited out blood onto his hands. His knees buckled and the boy collapsed to the floor, still conscious but quickly losing control over his body. Snape's jaw hung in shock, and he immediately got down and wrapped the boy inside his arms. Splashes of Harry's vomited blood vaguely stained the front of his black robes.

"Harry! Harry! What happened? Calm down! Return to me!"

He was still so helpless. Harry wiped his mouth. The taste of iron filled his mouth and the spaces in between his teeth, overriding the foul taste of the imaginary semen. Slowly he regained his consciousness. His mind was busy gathering it all back into the Harry's Box. No more. He should make the box harder to open. He couldn't afford another memory leak like that. No.

"Professor?"

"Harry? Can you hear me? What happened?"

"I remembered something… Professor, but it's over. I am fine now. I am so sorry."

Feeling that he couldn't coax any more information from the boy, Snape gave up and helped Harry spread himself on a bigger sofa. He pulled a blanket over the small boy and went to get some of his potions. Pain relief potions? Sleep inducing potions? What should he get? If only he could make a potion for better understanding the minds of abused little kids…

Harry peacefully surrendered himself to the silence. He retained everything, all his senses, tightly sealing the box once again. The incident made him realize how mentally weak he was. The memories could still escape the box he made, no matter how tightly he'd closed the lid. It was unacceptable. Nobody wanted a broken child. He needed to hold himself together.

"Harry, drink this calming draught. What happened back there? Tell me where the pain is."

Harry was tempted to point to his own head, but it was not an acceptable answer. The pain was from the  _inside_  of his head. If he told the professor the truth, the man would think Harry was going crazy. Or worse, useless, and he would revoke his guardianship over Harry. Nobody was going to help, nobody  _could_  help Harry, and nobody cared enough anyway. He smiled and shook his head. A bit of a headache pained him, but the draught made him calmer than ever. He could live with that kind of small pain. He was used to more acute pain that that.

"Nothing, professor, I was caught in a bad moment. I'm getting over a bad cold. It's passed now. That's all."

"I won't accept this answer." Snape slowly took a seat beside Harry's body, in the limited space of the sofa. "What was that? Did you remember something bad? Tell me, child. Please believe me that I'll do anything to help."

Harry watched the man looking at him, and he could feel another probing inside his mind. Again.

"Sir?" The boy asked. "Why do you keep trying to get into my mind?"

Snape immediately cut the eye contact and looked away. "Because you do not share anything, child, and it is definitely unhealthy to bury everything inside your head."

"I am healthy, sir."

"I wouldn't say that vomiting blood occasionally is exactly 'healthy,' Mr. Potter."

"This is the first time that's ever happened, sir. I promise I am fine."

"I don't want you to promise something like that, Harry. This is not a matter of who is strong or who is capable. This is something to share for the sake of your own mental health. Child, please say something; tell me what has burdened you."

Could he tell the man the truth? Harry wondered in his mind. If he told the man about his uncle, what would that do, exactly? Would the professor be disgusted with him? Would the professor pity him? Or was it a normal occurrence for any child—to be ordered to do that? Would the professor think that Harry was exaggerating the whole matter? Would his Harry's Box sustain such a blow? To be told that he was actually overreacting to things?

Maybe he could, one day. But not now.

"…" Harry opened his mouth, just to be intercepted by the arrival of their Headmaster through the Floo system. Snape snapped his head up quickly to see Albus coming inside, somehow making the Potions Master a bit irritated because he'd almost succeeded in coaxing Harry to speak up.

"Hello, Serverus, Harry. It is a wonderful time to meet you both. I am sorry to barge in, but I have something important to show both of you."

Snape nodded and signalled for the Headmaster to take a seat. The elderly Headmaster scanned the room, and was surprised to see the state of the boy in front of him.

"Are you sick, my child?"

Harry shook his head, while Snape nodded and said "Yes."

Finding the situation funny, the Headmaster chuckled and took out his wand, muttering some charms towards Harry. Harry was surprised when the warm feeling of a gentle light enveloped him. His body suddenly felt a lot better, physically, and it was only then that he realized that he was actually having some minor kind of stomach pain.

"Are you feeling better now?" Albus asked Harry. The boy nodded. "Good. Now we can continue. I am here to return the artefact I owe you, young Lord Potter. I offer you this wand, which may look too old to be of use but it is of similar value to your Invisibility Cloak. However, the rules have dictated you need to take it from me. So I need you to duel me, Lord Potter."

"Albus!" Snape looked terrified. "Are you out of your mind?"

Albus Dumbledore shook his head. "Alas, I am not. I am really serious. This wand is of the same value of the Cloak, and I am more than happy to surrender this to Harry. Yet magical law dictates that Harry needs to prove himself worthy of yielding this wand. He needed to expel this wand from me."

Harry was confused, but when he heard what he needed to do, he worked quickly.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry whispered. And the wand flew to his left hand.

Immediately there was some kind of reaction between Harry's phoenix-core wand and the Elder Wand. Harry was surprised when he saw his phoenix-core wand suddenly fly out into his other hand. Both of the wands glowed, one in a red light, and the other one in a white light. The lights were growing in intensity, as if both wands were trying to outdo each other.

Watching in amusement and shock, Serverus Snape and Albus Dumbledore stayed in their places. Even Dumbledore forgot to comment on what was happening and watched the show in silence. The boy looked like he was holding two distinct light sources in each of his hands, one from his old wand (which glowed red) and the one he'd taken from Dumbledore (which glowed white). There was a burst of magical sparks around the room, making the hairs on both Snape and Dumbledore's necks stand out in unison.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, the glowing decreased and in Harry's hands both wands stopped glowing. Apparently they had reached an agreement. Harry felt more power coming from the wand he'd Expelled from Dumbledore, but more warmth from his old phoenix-core wand.

"…I wasn't prepared for such a hand, but nevertheless, you are the new owner of the wand. Please take care of it very carefully, Harry. It is very dangerous to let it fall into the wrong hands." Albus Dumbledore had finally collected himself enough to speak. Serverus Snape turned to the elder wizard, clearly not understanding a single thing that was happening before his eyes.

"What was that, Albus?"

"Ah, it was just a duel between the two wands. Neither wanted to concede their place as Harry's main wand." Albus smiled. "It is most curious. When I had that wand, my first wand didn't react this much. That wand of yours really loves you, Harry."

Harry blushed, feeling the warmth emulating from his phoenix-core wand. His wand loved him? Could it be possible that a wand could have feelings? Harry rubbed his thumb over the length of the wand and it purred in delight. The boy was shocked, but he kept stroking and his wand kept purring in delight. And his new wand (the one he'd gotten from Dumbledore) was tingling, as if it were jealous of the phoenix-core wand. Harry immediately rubbed the new wand as well, and both of them purred in happiness. Harry wondered whether it was normal for a wizard to feel their wands purring in happiness, but it touched him in a way he didn't understand.

"Talking about duels, maybe it is wise to give you a proper lesson about proper duelling techniques, Lord Potter." The headmaster nodded to himself, after watching Harry's subtle interaction with the wands. The boy might not have realized it, but Albus was impressed by the adeptness the boy had regarding scribing his own magical signature. Even _he_  couldn't understand exactly what had happened, but as he watched Harry rub both wands together, he could feel positive vibes coming from both wands. "Maybe you can assist me in that, Serverus? Maybe I could even make it a club for every Muggle-born student to partake in. Duelling is a very important tradition of ours, after all."

Serverus Snape was still in a stunned phase, so he nodded only out of habit. Albus chuckled.

"Good, good. Alright, good night boys!" He Flooed back into his own office, leaving Harry and Serverus both stunned.

Meanwhile the green eyed boy didn't know that he was now the proud owner of two out of the three famed Deathly Hallows.

* * *

Apparently the proposed Duelling Club became very popular, especially among the teachers. They were all tired from the constant questions about the Chamber of Secrets. A duelling club could be a nice distraction for the students.

Harry was dragged by his Slytherin mates into the club—he actually preferred learning more (from the library or Tom) about Necromancy and his pursuit of death. Blaise scowled at him, telling Harry that he needed duelling skills very badly, due to the unnatural amount and quality of attention their DADA teacher was giving Harry. Ever since he was found by Snape in Lockhart's main quarters, the DADA professor had lessened his attention on Harry. But he still stole every chance he got to be near to Harry.

Harry often felt the man's eyes on him throughout entire dinners (his mates all warned him: even they could see it clearly. Pansy actually snickered and said that Lockhart and Harry would be a hot couple in a few years. The boys had gone 'eewwe' for several moments before deciding that Pansy had cooties). Sometimes Lockhart would catch Harry and his friends walking in the middle of the corridor and, to quote Pansy's words, 'ogle Harry to death'. The other times Harry happened to be alone when meeting Lockhart outside the classroom, the professor would always smile at him and start to talk to him, and also would never miss any possible chance of skin to skin contact he could make.

Harry, for his part, was quite uncomfortable with all the attention, but the skin-to-skin contact made him feel… warm. It brought to mind a mixture of disgust and deep flattery, all jumbled together. Harry wasn't used to feeling like this and thus, he was confused. When he was confused, Harry always decided to do nothing, for fear that he would be punished (thanks to the Dursleys' abusive doctrine). His friends assumed that Harry was too afraid to complain to other people about it.

And it was just his luck to find that Lockhart happened to be appointed their Duelling Club professor, seconded by Snape. Blaise expressed his relief at the latter, because he knew Snape's presence would deter the perverted paedophile from touching Harry. And maybe Snape could kick his arse in the process, if it came to that.

It was true, in a sense. Serverus Snape actually aimed to use the Duelling Club as a chance to teach the blonde professor a lesson. He could clearly see how the man was so obsessed with Harry. He even found out that Lockhart had been purchasing some of Harry's photos from first year Gryffindor Colin Creevey for a while. It was quite dangerous and it needed to be stopped as soon as possible. He would use the demonstration duel as his means to an end.

And then he realized he had underestimated the other man. Gilderoy Lockhart looked like an idiot peacock that was nothing but all talk. But their ensuing duel changed his mind. It was either one of the best or one of the most terrifying duels he had ever fought, and also one of the most interesting duels the Hogwarts students ever got to see. The students were amazed when the two professors started their duel—it appeared harmless, on the surface (both Snape and Lockhart opted for the Expelliarmus spell and other simple disarming/defence/offense charms); but behind the simple spells, they cast dangerous hexes and jinxes wordlessly. The duelling platform became the main victim of the fight, becoming reduced to ashes after the duel was finished. By the time Minerva McGonagall rushed in to do damage control, half of the room was almost destroyed, with some of the students hiding behind furniture (but yet still watching in deep, breathless amusement).

The sheer power between Lockhart's spells was countered by Snape's skill of deflecting as well as his sense of creativity. The majority of the students didn't know whose side to cheer on, but they really enjoyed the show of power from such simple spells. If duelling was that cool, even with simple spells like Expelliarmus, they really needed to learn how to duel properly.

Harry reacted differently to all this, though. The air in the room felt dark, and Harry became giddy with extreme, polarizing feelings. It felt very intoxicating, watching the continuous dark powers being exchanged between his two professors. He knew they weren't duelling using only the simple spells; their auras showed that both were serious about the fight and downright irked with each other. He didn't know that Lockhart/Marvolo was trying to teach a lesson to Snape for interfering with his and Harry's precious alone time. Of course the Dark Lord made sure to hold back, and he was quite impressed with his inner-circle Death Eater's creative strikes (compared to sheer power, though, of course he was way better). Moreover, Lockhart's body and his current magic reserve weren't enough to actually really kill the Potions Master.

But the duel got really heated; both men forgot that they were supposed to do a simple demonstration. At the height of the duel, Snape conjured some snakes onto the platform. Lockhart/Marvolo smirked, and hissed to the snake.

Harry's eyes went wide.

"….  _Go back…"_ was the only thing he understood, but he was sure the DADA professor actually said that in Parseltongue. Professor Lockhart immediately banished the snakes, and nobody in that moment except Snape and Harry realized that Lockhart had to be a Parseltongue.

That was when Snape admitted defeat and Lockhart bowed down, admitting defeat as well. Both decided to yield and the duel finished in a draw. McGonagall entered the room at that moment, and when she saw the silent students and the condition of the duel, she shouted 'Draw!' and continued to berate both men for being childish and inappropriate.

The students were sent back to their dorms. They were talking excitedly and looking forward to the next duelling meeting. Hermione Granger in particular was wondering out loud to anybody who would listen about how on earth the Protego spell could conjure snakes.

Harry Potter, on the other hand, felt nauseated and dizzy.

First, he could understand a bit of Parseltongue. Secondly, his DADA professor apparently could speak Parseltongue. Third, he actually sounded like  _Marvolo_  when he hissed…

No. Lockhart couldn't be Marvolo. He just couldn't be. After all, why would the professor not tell him, if this were the case?

Harry went to bed, ignoring Tom's call. He had no time to talk with the diary. He needed to control his emotions and organize his thoughts. He needed time to digest this and think about it. He wouldn't break again. Marvolo was gone, he had left for good. Harry shouldn't hope for any more. No. Hope brought nothing but disappointment.

He was thinking too much.

Yes, he checked that he was safe. Harry's Box was still closed. Harry Potter was safe.

He was safe.

* * *

The next day two students and one ghost were found Petrified.

Colin Creevey was found in the middle of an empty corridor, frozen like a statue with his camera covering his face. Justin Finch-Fletchley was found Petrified with Nearly-Headless Nick beside him, looking all black, as if the ghost had been burnt in an oven. The victims were found in two different places, by some Huflepuffs whose screaming had woken up the entire caste.

Terror struck the heart of Hogwarts: the castle wasn't safe. Rumours swirled that someone who was the Heir of Slytherin had opened the Chamber of Secrets to release the Slytherin Monster, which aimed to kill all filthy Muggle-borns. Gryffindors boasted on how they would slay the monster, Hufflepuffs stayed silent and kept to themselves for protection, and Ravenclaws all headed to the library for further information on the monster. Slytherin students were the only ones acting like nothing was amiss. Because to them, the Slytherin Heir wouldn't hurt a Slytherin.

Harry wondered about it, and wrote down all his thoughts and theories inside the diary. The diary reacted quite violently to the news, and once it calmed down it asked Harry to let him use the boy's body to check for something important. Harry wondered whether he should let Tom possess him or not. In the end he decided maybe it was for the best and he let the diary possess him.

It was Halloween night.

" _Finally you_ _have_ _come down here."_ Hissing sounds welcomed Tom when he opened the door to the main chamber. Tom was frozen. He knew that sound.

It was his own voice.

What he saw betrayed his senses: he was expecting some idiot who'd tried to imitate Annana by using other means of Petrifaction. He wasn't expecting to see his own older self, possessing the body of a very showy man with gleaming teeth and golden hair. And he wasn't ready when suddenly Annana struck out at him, only to realize the damn serpent actually wanted a  _cuddle_.

_Harry! Harry! Harry! You are back!_

" _He is not Harry, Annana. But he w_ _ill_ _be, very soon. My dear younger self, come back to me. I need you to join me_ _again_ _._ "

" _What?"_ Tom asked. " _You want us to merge back_ _together_ _?"_

" _Yes. Together we will regain our sanity and charisma, and I can implement my new plan to restructure the Ministry of Magic."_

Tom the diary hissed back, feeling threatened. He had been an independent entity for almost a decade and now his older self wanted him to come back? As much as he knew it was the wise thing to do, he wouldn't want to be caught dead in a body of such a moronic peacock. And what could he do to threaten his elder self? He only had Harry's body… but then, Annana's act made it clear that the serpent has a previous connection with Harry. Maybe it will work.

" _Don't you realize that if I leave this body, Harry_ _will_ _die? He h_ _as_ _no natural Slytherin blessings in his vein_ _s_ _, and_ _he_ _wouldn't be able to withstand Annana's deathly stare_ _._ _"_

The realization hit Marvolo hard. He hadn't realized that Harry had lost all of Slytherin's blessings once his Horcrux had left the boy. Yes, he'd miscalculated that move. Beside them, Annana whined sadly, realizing that she couldn't let Harry see her anymore because the boy would die if she so much as glanced at him.

" _I admit I didn't think it was possible. But you are right. Maybe we should wait before joining back together."_

Tom the diary stared at the DADA professor. Something was tickling his common sense. " _Why are you so hung up on this boy? Why does Harry mean so much to you?"_

Marvolo stared back, coldly. Both of them assessed each other. They knew each other too well, for they were the same entity in two different bodies. While Tom knew that Marvolo definitely was hiding something from him, Marvolo knew that he should come out with a more plausible explanation for his younger self. He knew that the young Tom wouldn't accept a stupid reason like ' _because he cared about Harry Potter_ '. His younger self had sworn that Tom Marvolo Riddle would never be capable of caring about others. Lord Voldemort lived for himself, and any other beings were just tools to be implemented, or trash to be eliminated, depending on the situation.

And frankly, Marvolo wouldn't admit that he actually cared about Harry. No, never. Harry was just a good… minion. Yes. An exploitable source of magic. A minion at most. Pet, maybe?

" _If you merge with me, you'll know_ _the reason,_ _"_ Marvolo hissed, simultaneously vaguely answering Tom's question and piquing the Horcrux's interest. Using the element of surprise, he cast a spell to get Harry's body into a full Body-Bind, and carried the small, motionless boy up the corridor. Tom watched him through a hateful glare, but he could do nothing because he was not strong enough to release the spell from Harry's body. And he watched, silently brooding, as Marvolo gently cradled Harry's lithe body up the exit of the Chamber.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that answer your questions?
> 
> Yes, it was Lockhart Voldemort that use Annana to petrify student, so that he could coax the Tom diary out.
> 
> Yes, Lockhart is possessed by Voldemort. Why? Because it is funny. Lockhart is a natural pedo bear, and Voldie wants Harry. Nice and easy.
> 
> Why the hell Lockhart Voldemort doesnt tell Harry he was Marvolo? Because he didn't want to be disappointed. Voldemort was subconsciously afraid that Harry would be angry at him for the abandonment. he wasn't ready to face Harry's wrath. Subconsciously. And so, he thought he was doing the right thing.
> 
> What is Slytherin's blessing? Remember I was saying in my previous chapter (before re-posting) that parseltongue can be learned but the ability of Slytherin descendant to control and not die from Annana's stare was because of the magic cascading from Slytherin himself? So while Harry could learn Parseltongue back (shown by his recognition of some hissing sound) he was NOT be immune to the stare.
> 
> Will he be immune in the future? Maybe.
> 
> Why Dumbledore suddenly turned into a good man? He is not. He is still a manipulative bastard. He does what he thought as right. arent we all?
> 
> Any other question?
> 
> Please review! A simple thank you for the new chapter can bring joy you never know to me, you see.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

* * *

Thank you so much for the comments! 

* * *

With a start, Harry woke up to find that he was back in his dormitory.

Feeling as though something was missing, he looked around and realized that Tom was gone. Hurriedly, he mentally flicked though his memory bank, realizing there was some kind of information gap. The last thing he remembered was welcoming the strange aura coming from the pages of the book, into his head. And then, everything went blank. And now, here he was, lying on top of his bed.

Outside, the moon was at its peak. It was still silent around him; most of the Slytherin boys never snored. Occasionally Crabbe and Goyle snored but that night, the dorm was dead silent. Harry looked around. The curtain around his bed was closed. He peeked around the folds, only to find that the diary was sitting on top of his bedside table.

He slipped out of bed, opening the diary. But somehow, the little book didn't feel quite the same. For some reason, the diary was not emitting its usual magic. Harry pulled out a quill from his bag and wrote down in the pages.

_Tom?_

The diary was silent. It didn't absorb his writing this time; the ink remained, unmoving, on the page. Tom wasn't replying. Harry's hand started to shake.

_Tom?_

His writing was still there. Two  _Tom?_ 's were still written on the paper. No answer. It wasn't being absorbed. Harry pushed his magical aura into the paper. Nothing. Usually Tom loved it when Harry submitted his magical aura while he was writing to the diary. Still nothing.

The boy bit his lip. No. He knew this feeling too well, he felt the déjà vu. He recognized this feeling from before. It felt like that time when Marvolo had… left him.

No, no. Tom should be there. Tom was in the diary. Tom was just sleeping. The diary could reply to him, of course it needed to sleep from time to time as well.

So with shaky hands, the boy continued to write.

_Tom?_

_Are you there?_

_Tom?_

And he called his friend's name, again and again, until morning came and Blaise pulled him to the Great Hall for breakfast. The boy meekly followed Blaise's orders, showering and preparing his bag as fast as he could before shoving the diary into his pocket. His mind was blank. Harry was still trying to believe the impossible. Yes, he still believed that maybe Tom the diary was just tired and unable to answer him. Didn't Marvolo do it something like this last time as well? The unicorn blood had knocked him out and that was why he didn't answer Harry's call… thinking about unicorn made his chest feel tighter, so Harry refrained from remembering the beautiful unicorn and its foal.

Yes. Tom was still there. Tom wasn't Marvolo, Tom wouldn't simply leave like that without saying anything. Tom was just tired. Just… tired. And so, Harry kept writing the diary's name,  _Tom,_  over and over again, even on the breakfast table.

Blaise watched him, worried. His petite friend looked like an obsessed, possessed soul, filling pages and pages with a single name,  _Tom_. As if he were trying to call someone by using the book. Remembering that Harry had told him once that the book had sentience, Blaise realized that Harry was trying to call the book's name.  _Tom_.

"Harry?"

The boy didn't reply; he kept writing the name on the paper,  _Tom_ , again and again. Blotches of ink marred his hands. The already-thin boy ignored his plate in favour of writing in the book. And what concerned Blaise the most was, the more Harry wrote in the book, the more despaired he looked.

Harry looked like he was a breath away from crying.

Blaise patted Harry's shoulder. "Harry?"

The boy turned to look at Blaise, and the emerald eyes made such an impression on Blaise's mind. They were glassy and desperate. The very picture of pathetic. Or denial.

"Harry? Stop writing. Eat your food!"

Harry shook his head. "N' h'ngry".

"Harry, don't be like this. Stop writing! What are you doing?"

"N'thing," Harry shook his head. He kept writing, but the quality of his writing became worse; his hands shook even more obviously and the quill was more forcefully pressed onto the paper.

"Harry!"

Harry suddenly closed the book and put on an exaggerated show just to please the other boy. He took his fork and stabbed the egg on his plate. The boy put it in his mouth, and chewed. Blaise watched as the boy slowly, mechanically chewed, his hands rubbing his eyes. They were red. Maybe Harry hadn't slept well the night before.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" the Italian boy asked worriedly to his best friend, but he got no response until the very end of breakfast. Blaise groaned. Harry could be so stubborn sometimes. If he didn't know Harry better, he would think that Harry was throwing a tantrum. But Harry wasn't capable of throwing a tantrum. Harry was not spoiled; he was like the weird loner boy who'd never, as a child, learned the concept that everyone is born with human rights. Blaise grimaced when he remembered the news he'd read in the Daily Prophet about Harry's last visit to St. Mungo's about all the injuries Harry had acquired. About his abusive relatives and the traumatic childhood environment the boy had grown up in. The descriptions were so horrific that Blaise's famous, normally stoic, beauty-queen mother had cried over the newspaper article.

Blaise took a good, long look at Harry. He was still scrawny and petite. It was no mystery, with that kind of appetite the boy had; Harry was lucky that he still continued to grow at all. His eyes were wet and red. His body was shaking and his face looked pale. These were not good signs. Harry was trying to keep everything, his emotional angst, only to himself again. Blaise knew the signs, because he'd had his fair share of pain as well. Watching your own mother changing (and probably killing) her own husbands every other year did not exactly form a pleasant childhood memories. Blaise had given up his childish hope of ever finding out his real father—he couldn't even get one permanent stepfather. Yes, so Blaise knew of pain. But Harry's pain took the crown, and Blaise watched as the boy buried everything deep down, all by himself.

The boy always tried to do everything, no matter how difficult the task, alone, as though he believed that nobody would ever care to help him. The boy was so used to being alone that all the efforts Blaise had put into supporting Harry always ended up being immediately unconsciously rejected or ignored. It was very sad, frustrating and irritating, especially when one of the main indoctrinated values of being a Slytherin was to support each other in the House of cunningness, against the whole world. Sometimes, when Harry got on his last nerve, Draco needed to refrain Blaise from cursing Harry for being such a hard-headed idiot. Blaise always tried desperately to make Harry understand that a pain shared is a pain  _less_.

And in the next hour, they would have to attend their DADA lesson with none other than Professor Lockhart, who still posed a great danger (in Blaise's opinion) to Harry's welfare. Blaise groaned. Only Harry could have that kind of rotten luck.

* * *

Harry continued writing down in the diary. He was already up to the middle of the book. He had filled half of the diary with only Tom's name, filling in even every empty corner in every page.  _Tom_.  _Tom_.  _Tom_. His writing hand was tired. But Harry kept writing down the name, because he  _still_  believed.

"Harr—Potter, what are you writing? Are you listening to me?"

Harry looked up to see his professor staring at him. Harry could see a bit of concern in those blue—no, reddish eyes. His professor's eyes had suddenly, inexplicably, changed from blue into red, with black slits for pupils. And then Harry felt his professor's gaze landing on the diary he was writing in.

"…My child, this won't do. Please pay attention. That book is not suitable for this class and whatever you are trying to summon …is  _gone_."

The last word struck him.  _Gone_. Vanished. He knew the professor perhaps didn't mean  _vanish_  in that particular sense; Professor Lockhart surely wanted him to simply put away the diary during his class. But his choice of words had actually opened the boy's eyes.  _Gone_. Disappeared. Tom was  _gone_.

He felt some kind of anger fill his chest. Why? Why did the professor say that? Why had the professor confirmed his worst fear? He had been trying so hard to keep his hopes up, damn it! He was … he was… Tom should be there. Tom wouldn't just leave him without saying anything, like this. Tom wouldn't disappear just like that. Tom wasn't Marvolo. Tom was…

Tom  _was_  Marvolo.

And then the tears he had been withholding were released in a torrential downpour. Yes, he had just let himself realize whatever he was unconsciously trying to conceal. The aura he had felt from Tom was exactly the same as what Marvolo had felt like. He had been looking up to Tom, as he'd looked up to Marvolo. Tom's way of speaking was very similar to Marvolo's. Tom had been there to teach him and guide his studies, just as Marvolo had. Tom had even encouraged him sometimes, and listened to his stories and innermost thoughts, just as Marvolo had. Tom had been there, solely for Harry's sake because he was the only one who could talk to the spirit of the diary. Just like how Marvolo was there only for Harry, because Harry was the only one who could listen to Marvolo.

He missed Marvolo so  _much_. And now he was fooling himself because he was afraid that once he might have told Tom that he thought Tom was really Marvolo, which, thinking back, may have caused Marvolo to leave him alone again. Because… Because Marvolo had only been giving him another chance. Marvolo had, for his own reasons perhaps, come back as Tom so that Harry wouldn't recognize him. It was only Harry's own childish reasoning, but it made sense in his head. Marvolo had been giving him a second chance. He came back for Harry in the form of Tom.

And now he'd lost Marvolo again. He'd failed Tom. He'd made Tom go away. The feelings of despair and helplessness infiltrated his mind and heart, the same feelings that he'd experienced when Marvolo had abandoned him. What had Harry done to upset them so much? Why did they leave? Marvolo came back as Tom and then now he had left Harry again. Why? Was it because Harry was a freak? A useless brat? A worthless freak?

_Useless. Worthless. Freak._

His whole body stiffened, became slack. The quill left his slacking palm. His body suddenly felt cold. It was like being suddenly plunged into ice cold water. Harry had been abandoned once again. He was defeated. His methods of hoping always proved useless, worthless. No matter what he did, he would never make others satisfied with him. That's why people left. No matter how hard he tried to please, it was never enough. And foolishly, Harry had always hoped that maybe this time around, this time, he could make it right, and someone would come to care for him. He kept expecting something that always ended up disappointing him. No more, please. He'd had enough.

"Harry, why are you crying? Are you hurt anywhere?" Harry registered the professor's concerned voice in his head somewhere, but he couldn't concentrate. His Harry's Box was shaking, threatening to open. No. He couldn't face the pain of abandonment again. He'd had enough of that. Please.

"Do you need to go to the infirmary?" the professor asked him. Harry blinked and realized that his cheeks were wet with tears. He rubbed his face and shook his head.

"I am fine, sir."

"No, child. You are clearly not fine. I will take you to the infirmary…"

"I can walk there by myself, sir. Thank you." Harry rubbed his eyes, trying to stop the tears. Embarrassing. He didn't deserve to cry. He had failed Marvolo twice. It was his fault. Harry didn't deserve to cry. He was a useless freak. Crying was only acceptable if he were truly 'normal' and useful. No. He shouldn't cry.

He didn't deserve to cry and feel sad. After all, it was his own inadequacy that had failed Marvolo. He packed his books and went out from the room, ignoring the curious looks and pitying coos from his classmates.

He walked as fast as he could. Where was he going again? Infirmary? Harry wiped his face again. It was still wet. His chest really hurt so much. He needed to go somewhere and calm himself down before coming to the infirmary. He didn't want to trouble Madam Pomfrey. So instead of walking towards the direction of the infirmary, Harry went upstairs. He wanted to run away. Somewhere that was dark, peaceful and narrow, like his cupboard in the house on Privet Drive.

He walked through a corridor, only to find it led to a dead end. Harry bit his lip. He was so pathetic. He couldn't even find a place to sit down and calm himself. At that exact time, suddenly a door appeared beside him, on the wall which previously held no such door. Harry was sure he had never seen that door before.

Feeling curious and already desperate for a place to run away, he opened the door.

It was dark, and filled with various random things. Harry looked around, and realized it was the perfect place to hide himself. Full of objects that he could hide behind, the room was also dark and silent.

He entered the room, slowly walking through the piles of things around him. He found all sorts of articles, from books to chairs, to luggage and even pillows. He even saw something that suspiciously looked like a Muggle television, but he wasn't really sure. There was a cupboard as well, and suddenly—Harry stopped.

In front of him was the Mirror he had seen in his first year. The mirror which had taken his magic, and the last thing he'd remembered before Marvolo had left him. The Mirror that had given him the Philosopher's Stone.

This time, Harry didn't spell out the words on the mirror. He didn't want to call out the scary old hermit. He didn't have anything to wish for anyway. The mirror wouldn't give him death. So Harry just watched the surface of the mirror, looking at himself in it. Scrawny, ugly little freak. His green orbs were wet from crying, his thin face was full of tear streaks and his hair was even messier than usual. His hair was longer now, since Professor Snape had never reminded him that he needed to cut it.

And then suddenly some shadows appeared behind him. Surprised, Harry turned around just to see that he was still alone in the cold, dark room. He turned back to glimpse the mirror again and this time, he saw two adults, one woman and one man, standing behind him, smiling.

His eyes hungrily took in the details of those adults. The lady had red hair and green eyes; she was very pretty. The man was tall, his black hair messy, his brown eyes framed with glasses not unlike the ones Harry wore before Marvolo had corrected his eye sight.

"…" Harry couldn't believe it. He touched the mirror. It was cold. But the image was too much. "…Mom? Dad?"

Both adults nodded. Harry took a deep breath and stepped nearer to the mirror. His parents smiled at him. Harry smiled back. It was too good to be true. He'd never seen a real picture of his parents', but they looked like they were his. They should be his, right? He could… could he hope once more? "Mom? Dad?"

The images nodded again.

"Mom… Dad… this is me, Harry." Harry smiled. "I am here… Can I come there, to be with you?"

The images just kept smiling at him.

"Mom, Dad… you know I am Harry, right?"

The images smiled again, but neither of them spoke.

"Mom? You love me, right? So can I come there? How can I come there?" Harry whispered, desperately trying to get his parents' images to speak. "Dad? Can you hear me?"

The images stayed quiet. But they smiled at him. His father put a hand on top of his shoulder. Harry quickly grabbed at the hand, only to feel air and his own bony shoulder. A pang of loss filled his chest. But the mirror still showed his father with his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry closed his eyes. He couldn't get them to speak. He couldn't cross over to where they were. So he could only imagine how the warmth of his parent's touch would feel like. The touch he could never had. He wanted them so much.

Then, Harry sat down on the cold floor and started to sob.

* * *

When he woke up, Harry didn't know how many hours had passed. He had fallen asleep in front the mirror. His eyes were so dry and painful. Forcing himself to move, Harry crawled towards the door, on his back, using his shoulder blades to push himself along. He needed to return to the 'real' world. He knew the mirror was just a figment of his imagination. His parents weren't alive anymore.

Stepping out from the room, Harry saw the last person he'd ever in his life expected to see in Hogwarts.

Duddley Dursley was standing in front of him.

Harry was shocked, and so was Duddley. The slimmer boy paled. Trained since childhood from too many cruel rounds of the made-up game Harry Hunting, Harry sprinted in the other direction as fast as he could, avoiding the whale of a boy.

He didn't look back until he'd reached the Slytherin common room and had slammed the door behind him. He was panicking. No way was  _Duddley_  possibly able to come to Hogwarts. If he somehow were able, then Harry was definitely having the worst luck of his life. He didn't want Duddley to be there. He didn't want to have to go through another round of "Hunt for Harry" or other forms of bullying from Duddley, ever again.

When he'd recovered from his panic, he saw that most of his second year mates were watching him in worry, or curiosity. Harry swallowed hard.

He felt like a zoo animal in a cage, watched by people who viewed him as a morbid attraction.

* * *

Unexpectedly, the rest of the school year passed relatively peacefully afterwards.

Blaise became even more protective over Harry ever since he'd cried in the DADA lesson and had gone missing for several hours before being found running into the Slytherin common room in panic. At first, Harry didn't explain any of his behaviour to anyone, even though he could sense they were worried. He felt guilty and tried to put them at ease by smiling more, but apparently this only increased their suspicions. In the end, they approached Harry and asked what had happened. Harry needed to be honest with them, or they would go to Professor Snape. Harry in the end told them that it had been an especially bad day and that he also missed his parents. It was half the truth anyway. The story earned him some pity from Pansy and the other Slytherin second year girls. Some upper class men who'd heard the confession also sneaked some candies into Harry's pockets.

Furthermore, when Harry started to mentally analyse the whole incident again, he realized that if Tom  _was_  Marvolo, then the only one who could really open the Chamber of Secrets was Professor Lockhart. Professor Lockhart was the only one who was capable of speaking in Parseltongue (unless Harry had mistaken the Professor's surprised hissing as Parseltongue). Some thought had started to nag in the back of his head. He was almost there… he almost understood something. But Harry let it go in the end, because he knew it wasn't his problem. He didn't want to find the solution to that problem because he didn't want to be punished for it afterwards. And he avoided the DADA professor as much as he could. Apparently the professor was a bit distracted as well, because he didn't seek out Harry's company anymore, although the stares directed at Harry throughout meals and classes persisted.

Professor Snape was another matter altogether. He had avoided Professor Lockhart like the plague ever since the duel. However, he also seemed to stay away from Harry as well. Harry was expecting that anyway. He knew that nobody would want to be his permanent guardian. Professor Snape had been so kind to him. He shouldn't complain. The professor would talk to him every now and then, but it was nowhere near as intimate as it had been in the past. Especially whenever he saw Professor Lockhart around Harry. Instead, the Head of Slytherin House became even more silent and brooded more often in his quarters, often spending hours researching something by himself.

The Headmaster sometimes came over to Harry to ask the boy whether he was enjoying his new wand. Harry usually parroted whatever answer he thought the old Headmaster would wish to hear, so that Professor Dumbledore would leave him alone. With no more Tom or Marvolo or Professor Snape to guide him, he opted to run away whenever he saw the oldest man in the castle.

Thus, Harry stayed inside his Slytherin dorm during the Christmas Holiday, because the Professor neglected to invite him back inside the Professor's quarters. Harry didn't want to press the matter. True, he missed his room in the Professor's quarters, but if the Professor didn't want to see him, he could still stay inside the dorm.

* * *

Christmas came and went. Harry gave presents to Professor Snape, all his Slytherin mates and the house elves. In return, he got ten times his usual number of presents: each and every one of the elves who loved him gave him individual presents in the form of baked goods (which Harry shared with his mates who'd stayed behind, and the Professors at the breakfast table) and many pairs of knitted socks; plus each of his mates gave him books, sweets and garments of high quantity. Blaise in particular sent Harry a small flying Snitch designed for playing catch. Professor Snape silently thanked him over Christmas morning for his gift and in return, the professor gave Harry a necklace with a green snake pendant. Inside the package was a note saying that Harry should wear this necklace at all times.

Professor Lockhart had also sent him something; but it was inspected by Professor Snape first before Harry could open it. Harry found that the Professor had given him a set of advanced defence-spell books. Harry thanked the blonde professor (who had actually gone away for the holiday, and thus Harry needed to wait until the day all the students returned to Hogwarts by the end of Christmas holiday) for the gift. Professor Lockhart patted his head lovingly, asking whether Harry was fine. Harry answered as he always did, and he gave the Professor another gift he had prepared in the kitchen after he realized the Professor had given him something for Christmas. Professor Lockhart looked intrigued, and he opened the gift straightaway. He smiled fondly when he found a box full of cupcakes with bright coloured icing on each top. Harry sheepishly told him that he'd made it himself and that he hoped the professor would enjoy it.

It was only then Harry realized that Professor Lockhart was watching him with a strange glint in his eyes, as if he wanted to eat Harry whole, just like what Pansy had once said.

Feeling uncomfortable from the attention, the boy ran away. Actually, it was not only the professor showering unwanted attention on him. Harry also felt uncomfortable with the constant attention his housemates were giving him most of the time. The attention had only escalated after the incident of his crying in the DADA lesson. So he often ran to the library for solace.

There, he actually ran into the red-headed prefect who'd given him a hug a year ago. Harry was blushing from embarrassment when he realized who the boy was; but the boy just smiled gently at him and introduced himself as Percy Weasley, the older brother of Ronald Weasley. The boy started to guide him through the shelves of books in the library, and Harry found that Ron Weasley's brother was nowhere as bad as his little brother.

Percy was like the proper older brother he never had. Although the prefect had the unhealthy tendency of strictly adhering to all the rules and regulations of the castle, even the ones that made no sense, Harry felt that the prefect's attention on him was sincere. Maybe Percy only pitied him, but nevertheless, he felt good when he was talking to Percy. And sometimes Percy would compare Harry to his own little brothers. Percy would longingly tell Harry that he wanted Harry as his real little brother. Compared to the twins and Ron, Harry was like an angel. Percy told Harry in bitter tones that he was always being misunderstood and pushed around by his little brothers, especially by the twins.

It seemed that the Weasley boy had a certain image of a 'perfect little brother'. He was clearly disappointed by his own little siblings, who never listened and even at times pranked him. Thus, the red headed boy found Harry as the sweet example of a 'perfect little brother'. Percy also found that hugging Harry gave them both a feeling that could only be described as a type of familiar euphoria. Percy was glad because he could hug his 'little brother' like he was supposed to do as an older brother, whereas Harry was happy because it felt nice. They ended up sitting together in the library sometimes, doing their homework together, and Percy would pamper Harry like he would to his 'little brother' and Harry would look up to Percy, which in turn made the older boy happy.

The Weasley prefect also helped Harry in his studies. The boy checked and proofread Harry's essays and this greatly improved the boy's marks. Although Harry's studies on Necromancy were halted, the boy didn't truly mind and instead he started to go through the tomes he'd gotten from his father's vault. The first book he tackled was about Animagi, and advanced transfigurations. It was hard to comprehend and sometimes Harry would read a sentence five times and still not understand what it was talking about. He didn't dare asking for help because he felt like he was doing something forbidden. Nevertheless, he also filled his spare time with Quidditch practice (where Harry played as the spare Seeker) and his study group with other Slytherin second years.

Percy Weasley proved to be a great distraction for Harry, but the boy didn't forget about his 'kin' in the kitchen. Sometimes he would visit the elves after dinner, and recharge his mental batteries while having fun helping the elves wash the dishes. A handful of elves disliked him for it, but the majority shielded Harry from their distasteful attitudes, so Harry was blissfully unaware of what was happening. And through all the various interactions and distractions, Harry managed to gather himself together without ever having to go to Professor Snape.

* * *

Near the end of the semester, there was a major announcement. Professor Lockhart was being hailed as the person who had caught the 'Slytherin Monster' from the Chamber of Secrets. This was broadcast on the news, and every single student was told that Hagrid the Groundskeeper was the culprit. Apparently the half-giant man had opened the Chamber once when he was still a student at Hogwarts and Gilderoy Lockhart, the hero, had found evidence of him doing this. Hagrid kept an army of giant Acromantulas under his command, and the half-giant would reportedly Petrifiy students so that he could feed them to his Acromantulas. But Gilderoy Lockhart saved the day by catching both Hagrid in action and the Acromantulas feeding. He also pointed out that by Petrifying his own dog first, Hagrid had initially removed much suspicion from himself.

The Ministry demanded to put Hagrid in Azkaban. The Headmaster was dead set against it, but in the end he lost and the groundskeeper was taken by several Aurors. It was the last time the students saw Hagrid before the end of the semester holiday.

The news was taken differently by the students. Huflepuff students were just glad that the culprit had been arrested and that no more victims would fall prey, especially after their Head of House, Professor Pomona Sprout, announced that the mandrakes would be harvested in a few days. Professor Snape then would be able to create a potion to reverse the Petrification of the victims. The members of Slytherin House were proud that their Head of House was the Potions Master who saved the victims with his mandrakes potions. Ravenclaw distantly speculated the heroic act of Gilderoy Lockhart (whose fanbase had dramatically increased) while Gryffindors were silent because they refused to believe that Hagrid was the culprit.

Harry couldn't believe it either, but he took the news in stride as usual. He had more personal issues to face anyway. Thus, Harry passed most of his end-of-semester exams with flying colours (he knew he would pass everything except History of Magic). Blaise was groaning about the Transfiguration exam while Draco was boasting about his Potions exam. Then, the summer holiday came and all students except Harry left Hogwarts on the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

Next chapter: Voldie and cupcakes! LOL.

Comment please? I am moving countries and it is very tiring. THANK YOU for all of you who had commented and kudoed beforehand! By the way, do you guys actually expecting a reply from me?

H.


	14. Chapter 14

Contrary to the Wizarding public's widespread belief, the Dark Lord actually liked sweets.

Or, to be more accurate, he was able to at least tolerate them.

Well, alright; maybe, deep down, he knew he hated them, but he still could eat them. Especially sweets like cupcakes. With colourful icing on top of them. Yes, he could eat something like this. This was truly wonderful.

Because _Harry_ had made it.

Marvolo stared at the box of cupcakes on top of his table in great concentration. Maybe he could use his magic to turn the cupcakes into something more bitter, or saltier. Surely turning a sweet cupcake into a bitter cupcake could not possibly be that hard? A cupcake devoid of taste would be wonderful as well. Well, the truth was, he didn't really care about the _taste_. The tricky bit was to change the taste or the substance in those cupcakes without altering the outer appearance at all, or the shape of the whole thing… it was akin to changing a vial of mature Draught of Living Death into a Wolfsbane potion, without touching the vial or adding any ingredients. That was so difficult, even trickier than drafting a plan to raid Hogwarts, for his Death Eaters.

And that was the moment Duddley Dursley came into the office.

"… _What are you doing_?" the whale of a boy hissed in Parseltongue. "… _Are those_ _cupcakes_?" he asked, looking interested, but then scowled when he realized his mouth was leaking drool.

Covering up his embarrassment for being caught staring at some— _Harry's_ —cupcakes, Marvolo cleared his throat in disgust and stood up. " _Why are you here? I_ _thought_ _I_ _told you to stay with Annana in the Chamber!"_

The boy looked positively sick. _"I am just bored, alright? And this body_ _feels_ _really disgusting. The feeling of hunger this boy_ _experiences_ _every single second is unhealthy. And… have you heard anything from Harry?"_

" _What?"_ Marvolo focused back on his Horcrux—who was currently residing inside the spare body of Harry's pig of a cousin—when he heard the word 'Harry'. " _Why?"_

The obese boy closed the walls of his mind and shook his head. " _Never mind. I cannot wait until_ _we_ _merge. You owe me one."_

Marvolo sneered at his Horcrux. The body of Harry's despicable Muggle cousin, which he'd taken with him the last time he'd visited 'number 4 Privet Drive,' was finally proving useful. By putting Tom inside the boy's body, Marvolo was provided ample control over the younger soul of Tom Riddle. Since it was the body of Muggle, Tom wouldn't have access to any magical sources and thus, even just performing 'Lumos' would be very taxing for him. It was the perfect non-magical jail to contain his first Horcrux before the year's end. But still, because he was basically still the descendant of Slytherin, Annana's stare wouldn't kill him.

It would be the perfect jail for Tom Riddle, until the day Marvolo finished his day job as a teacher in Hogwarts.

" _Can I have one cupcake? This body is craving_ _for_ _sugar."_

" _No."_ Marvolo was surprised at how fast he answered, and how possessive he felt towards the cupcakes. He hated the sweets alright, but it was a present Harry had given him, and no, he wouldn't share even with his younger self.

" _Fine. Suit yourself."_ The fat boy left through the hole, trying clumsily to climb up. Marvolo sneered. He had wanted to knock Tom into a state of obliviousness that would last until the day his teaching contract was finished, but then again, angering his younger self would be troublesome for his re-emerging emotional stability. Everything always turned out to be so complicated. He knew himself the best, and he could rightfully say that his mind was more complicated than a can of twisted flobberworms.

Realizing he had spent too much time thinking about stupid matter like cupcakes, Marvolo opened his drawer and pulled out the magical briefcase filled with documents and letters he needed to read before his debut at the Ministry of Magic. Lucius had done his job perfectly and when the time was right, the world would welcome Thomas Marvolo Riddle back as their behind-the-stage-King. But now he needed to set his affairs in order and the amount of documents he had to read was enormous. He hated paperwork. But if he wanted to control the Ministry from within, using their own elements, then pushing paperwork constituted a major component of the job's requirements.

His debut stage was already nearly prepared: he would start his Ministry career as the Head Deputy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—a.k.a., the Auror Department—just one seat under the Department Head, Amelia Bones. Lucius had bribed and pulled so many strings to get his Lord in this coveted position, and he'd succeeded in giving Marvolo the best seat he could obtain: not too low for the prospect of quickly climbing up the Ministry ladder, but not too high that people might start immediately suspecting something about it.

Thus, he was waiting patiently until the end of the term. By then, he would have the Tom Riddle Diary Horcrux, Hufflepuff's Cup, and maybe either the Locket or the Ring (it didn't matter which one became his last Horcrux, as long as the main part of his soul had returned by then, and he would be back to his former glorious, cunning and attractive self) and then he would have his original body back. Hopefully with all the natural hairs attached.

So he needed to be patient until the end of the year. He had already achieved his goal of getting the Diary back. Yet he couldn't use Harry as his emotional and mental outlet, his "escape" anymore. Since the duel with Serverus, Marvolo had sensed that the Potion Master had long last realized, or at least, had suspected who he really was. The Potions Professor had since then taken great measures to avoid him and Harry. Now, Marvolo also felt Dumbledore's watchful eyes on him most of the time. Marvolo then knew that Serverus had gone to Dumbledore and had confided in him his suspicions. Thus, to reduce the others' suspicions, he should refrain from lavishing too much attention on Harry. It was a pity, though. Harry was the only source of amusement he had in that castle. Nevertheless, he would return to Harry when he'd gained his body and most of his soul back. At that point, he would openly give the boy one of his deepest wishes: a hug.

And maybe then, he could apologize… No, he was the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord never apologized! But he felt guilt eating away at his chest, especially when he saw how Tom's disappearance had hurt the child. Harry's tears were so honest. And the boy, as usual, refused any sort of help. Marvolo had been so worried, but he couldn't search for the child, as he had another class after.

He was relieved when he saw Harry at dinner time. The boy looked pale and dejected, and he was fussed over by his Slytherin classmates. The attention made the boy look uncomfortable. Marvolo silently sneered behind his mask, cursing those imbeciles who tried to get closer to his Harry. They didn't know Harry at all, like how Marvolo knew Harry. All they did was cause the boy to alienate himself even more. True to his predictions, he watched as the boy closed himself away to the world again. Tom Marvolo Riddle wasn't the poster boy for adolescent mental health, but he knew that if Harry kept doing this, someday he would go completely insane, maybe to an even more severe degree than what Marvolo had undergone in making his six Hocruxes. The boy was practically killing himself slowly. And Marvolo would never let the child achieve his death wish. Never.

But the weird thing was, every time he tried to get closer to Harry, somehow random obstacles and various hindrances would come up, get in his way, and prevent him from talking to the boy. It happened every single time. Whenever he saw Harry in the corridor, somehow, somebody always managed to pass him by at that exact moment and distract him; or another teacher or student would call to him and ask him about something; or he'd suddenly remember that he had something to do, that would steer him away from the direction of Harry. Even in class, he couldn't assign Harry any more detentions because of Dumbledore's aroused suspicions. Honestly, it seemed like the only time they could actually talk was when Harry himself wanted to approach Marvolo. Even then, Harry would immediately jet afterwards, like when he ran straightaway after delivering the cupcakes. Marvolo suspected that Snape had something to do with everything, but since he couldn't jeopardize his current position by adding to the growing list of suspicions of the Potions Master, Marvolo just kept to himself, trying to be content with just watching Harry as much as he could from a distance.

He just hoped that Harry still remembered his promise to stay alive for 'Marvolo' until he could get his body back. And then, he would take Harry under his wing.

* * *

Sliding back through the tunnel and into the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle was well aware that he was not amused. He was trapped inside a whale of a boy's body and now he was without his usual magic as well. The only capabilities he'd retained were his ability to speak Parseltongue, and his Slytherin-endowed blessings. Annana had long given up trying to eat him, and since Tom wasn't as 'adorable' (that was the exact term Annana had used) as Harry, the serpent had chosen to ignore the younger self of Marvolo. He hated the body so much, especially after Marvolo told him whose body it was. His older self was utterly disgusted by the Muggle boy and his Squib mother, and Tom had no choice but to agree with him when he heard the story behind Harry's 10 years of abuse in their household.

Tom himself wanted to torture the boy, but he would do it once he re-merged with Marvolo. He would burn this body slowly—until the fat deposited under the skin of the belly melted away, slowly and painfully. He would cut the boy's eyelids so that he himself could watch how he burned in the dancing flames on top of his stomach… oh, there were so many possibilities, Tom was almost giddy from excitement.

But it would all come later. Revenge—it would be so sweet. Now he was still trapped inside this foolish body and his older self was keeping him down in the dark with Annana, in the Chamber of Secrets. It was very boring for Tom. The only thing he could do all day was immersing himself in the books from Slytherin's library, of which he had already read most of. He chose to re-read these books, or he would be spending all his time instead trying to eat as much as humanly possible, because this disgusting body felt hunger all the time.

There was actually one thing he didn't want his older self to know. He actually went once to the Room of Requirement, to get a library book. The Room of Requirement granted one unlimited access to any Hogwarts library book, as long as the book wasn't taken out from the room. Tom needed to research for the Necromancy questions Harry had asked last time, and so he went there hoping that he could gain something.

Imagine his shock when he saw Harry come out from the room. Both were shocked at the sight of the other, and neither moved an inch for several long seconds. Tom could see how pale and dejected Harry was. His eyes were red and cracked; it seemed like the boy had been crying and crying. Of course, Tom was instantly curious as to why Harry had been crying, but he was robbed of his chance to ask when Harry turned and ran away, so fast, away from him. Tom in his current obese body couldn't stand a chance of catching up. And now that he thought about it, it was good that Harry had gone away before he could ask the boy what had happened—he could have easily blown his cover. With this, at least Harry could dismiss his sighting of Tom as a figment of his imagination, or a hallucination.

He was very sure that if his older self knew about the incident, he would be very angry. His older self had a serious issue with controlling his temper about certain matters. Especially whenever the matter concerned Harry, the boy. He wasn't sure why. And his older self had only promised to explain why once they merged.

A bit of a suspicious thought filled his mind. There was this one nagging notion about the weird, uncharacteristically emotional acts of his older self: couldn't it be possible that Marvolo, the Lord Voldemort, actually _loved_ one little orphaned boy called Harry?

Ridiculous. It couldn't be. He huffed, cursing again the excess fat that was currently hindering his movement. He really would torture this body when he was finally freed from it.

* * *

Hogwarts was eerily empty. Most of the teachers had gone back to their respective families and homes for the holidays, leaving the castle silent and dark.

Harry walked along the corridor by himself. It was very silent—making him feel as though he were the last person on Earth. The silence was more welcome than the usual attention he got from his peers. Harry wished the castle he could stay like this, silent and empty, forever. He didn't want to be around other wizards anymore. All they ever did was eventually leave him and hurt him. Marvolo, Tom, Dumbledore, and now even Professor Snape. Professor Snape had showed so clearly how people eventually got bored of Harry. The Professor hadn't said a single word to him ever since the end of final exams, and now he wasn't sure what to do.

Watching his friends enter the Express in delightful, cheerful moods, Harry couldn't help but feel empty inside. His friends had families and homes to go back to. He had no such thing. This emptiness was akin to those initial feelings of watching the owl post pass him by during the first few lonely mornings of the school year, all over again. Furthermore, he was forbidden to board the train by Professor Flitwick, who was on duty. Professor Flitwick had said that Harry was supposed to stay at Hogwarts, and had even asked Professor Snape how he should proceed.

Harry uneasily bit his lip, because he knew that the Potions Master wouldn't want to see him. Harry didn't want to anger the Potions Master any more than how he already had. Especially now that his relatives had rejected him and made clear that he wasn't welcome him in their house anymore. Professor Snape had told him during their last holiday that he would now be his guardian, and that he would protect Harry. But now, it seemed this was just another empty promise. Adults always gave children empty promises. He had been deceived again, as usual.

If Professor Snape refused to take him in, then where should he go…? Would he become a ward of Hogwarts ward, and clean the place with Mr. Filch? Or maybe he would be expelled from Hogwarts, and he would need to find one of the shelters the Goblin had told him about last summer. Maybe he should start a business or something to sustain himself. He could open a cleaning or housekeeping service; he knew he excelled at this, thanks to his life-long 'education' at the Dursleys'. Or the worst-case scenario yet—and the most possible, since his luck was always bad—Harry might end up being sent to an orphanage.

This last option was the most plausible outcome that might happen. Harry bit his lip. Was there any orphanage for magical children? Or would he go to a Muggle one? If that were the case, could he still return to Hogwarts next year? He was sure that his marks were good enough to pass onto the next level. He didn't know that he actually held the second highest marks in his year, only behind one Hermione Granger.

He was heading straight to the strange Room of Requirement at floor 7, and when he found it, he searched for the Mirror. Maybe he could soothe himself by looking at the images of his parents. It didn't matter that they never talked or responded to him. Just seeing them was enough.

The Mirror was still standing in the same place. Harry smiled and watched his own reflection standing across him from the other side of the mirror, smiling back at him. Behind his image were two adults, his father and his mother. After taking a deep breath, Harry let go of everything, all his pent-up emotions, and spoke.

"Father, mother… I might be expelled tonight and I will be leaving soon from Hogwarts. I am not sure where I will go, but I just want… I want to say thank you. It is always nice to see you. At least now I finally know how you both used to look like."

The images both nodded at him, and suddenly, they disappeared. Harry sighed. Maybe the Mirror knew of his wish. He had given up on meeting his parents through the Mirror. And that was why the Mirror turned greyish and nothing was reflected anymore. Because now Harry James Potter had nothing else to wish for. He had given up. He couldn't even find the solution of death he'd always wanted. Pathetic.

So then he walked out and began waiting inside the library, silently reading as much as he could before everything came to an end. So many books teetering around him, making Harry realize how precious time for studying was. He was immersing himself in the world of knowledge when suddenly Dobby came to him and asked him to get dinner in the Great Hall. Harry complied and went. Now he was sitting amongst the handful of teachers left in the castle, including Serverus Snape and Pomona Sprout. Throughout the dinner, Harry kept sending wayward glances towards the Potions Master. It seemed that Professor Snape wasn't paying attention to him at all, and he ignored all of Harry's signals. So Harry braced himself before following the professor out of the Great Hall, and asked as him his question as politely as possible.

"Professor, when am I going to the orphanage?"

The professor was stunned and he stopped walking towards the dungeon. He turned back instead, to face the boy. "Orphanage…?"

"Because you have revoked your guardianship of me, and so I am now without home or guardian, so I can only assume that I am going to the orphanage. Is there any magical orphanage, or am I going to a Muggle one?"

The words pierced Serverus Snape's chest. He suddenly felt so guilty. The child was asking him when he would go to an orphanage! Harry believed that Snape didn't want him anymore, and so, the boy would be sent to orphanage. That was why the boy had been so silent throughout dinner. That was why the boy had looked like he was waiting for something.

Harry was waiting for his verdict. He was waiting to be sent to the orphanage. He was waiting to be abandoned again.

Serverus clenched his fist. He was making the same mistake again. He had promised to protect the boy, but now he'd been ignoring the boy until the boy himself asked him when he would be abandoned. And those eyes, _Lily's_ eyes, were watching him in trepidation, waiting for his verdict, ready to accept whatever Severus would say next.

"Harry, I… I am sorry. You definitely won't go to any orphanage, child. Your place is inside this castle, with me, or inside my house. I am still your guardian."

Harry stared sceptically at the Professor. What did he mean by that?

"You don't need to force yourself to do anything, professor. I can see that you are already fed up with me. I understand and you don't need to lie, Professor. I am just wondering when would I be sent away, and how should I pay you for everything you have done for me? I am very thankful for everything, sir. Is money acceptable?"

Snape took a deep breath and kneeled down until he was at Harry's eye level. He caught the look in the child's eyes and saw the despair and submission in those eyes. The boy was showing no emotion in his face, but his eyes were too honest to lie. And his posture was that of a defeated man. The boy had concluded that Snape loathed him. The boy had lost his faith in Snape. Harry had even wanted to _pay_ him to show his gratefulness. What had he done?

"Harry… I am really sorry. I wasn't ignoring you; I was too busy being wrapped up in my own research and investigations. I was trying to protect you from Lockhart, because I have a suspicion of who he really is, that I must confirm. I am sorry that I gave you the impression that I was ignoring you. I didn't mean to do anything of the sort."

"…So you didn't ask me to come back to your quarters… _not_ because you started to loathe me?" Harry whispered softly.

Snape nodded. "I was too immersed in my thoughts to recognize your needs. I am truly sorry; would you forgive me? Please come back to my quarters now, and you can stay in your room for the remainder of the holiday."

"Are you sure, professor? I don't mind if you send me away. I understand if you do—even my blood relatives find me worthless and ungrateful. Maybe I… I can pay for the room I have in your quarters? I don't want to be a burden to you, sir."

"I am sure, Harry. This is my entire fault; please forgive me. How about I come with you to get your things from the Slytherin dorm? Come, child."

Harry nodded. His head was filled with scepticism. Maybe the Professor was just embarrassed to be reminded of his lie and that was why he apologized and suddenly became cordial again. Harry didn't understand the way adults thought. They continually betrayed their own promises and then when they were confronted about it, they always came out with another handy lie and tried to bury their mistakes. Was this true for _all_ adults? Why couldn't they just forget their pride and be like his uncle, who wouldn't refrain from saying the hurtful truth to him? At least Uncle Vernon never lied to him. Knowing that he would never get a definite answer to his question, the boy gave up. Instead, Harry followed the Professor in silence, and together they went back to the Slytherin dorms.

* * *

Serverus Snape was at a loss. He wasn't sure what to do anymore. It was his fault, to ignore and neglect the child throughout the entire semester. Truthfully, after the duel with Lockhart, Snape began to develop a suspicion that maybe the DADA teacher wasn't at all what he looked like on the outside. When Snape had witnessed Lockhart unbelievably speaking to the snake in Parseltongue, Snape was forced to relive the scariest memory he had ever acquired, when he was still an active Death Eater—every single meeting with the Dark Lord had been was filled with those hissing voices traded between the Dark Lord and his serpent familiar.

He knew that the ability to speak to serpents was very rare, and the only one currently recorded to be able to use such language was the Dark Lord himself. To hear Lockhart hiss it easily towards the snake made his skin crawl and his mind open up to a possible epiphany. Maybe the Dark Lord was possessing Lockhart. He would expect no better from Lockhart, as the wizard was a useless idiot, but then again, it was out of character for the Dark Lord to lower himself and possess such a lowly, degrading individual.

Yet, when he linked everything back to the weird attention the man had lavished upon Harry since the start of the semester, it had all seemed to add up. The real Lockhart would have only paid attention to Harry due to Harry's fame as the Boy-Who-Lived. But if Lockhart was being possessed by the Dark Lord, then the act of sitting together (which Snape had caught him doing, red handed, last time), where the DADA Professor had showed such a vulgar, possessive attitude towards the boy, made more sense. The only plausible explanation was that the Dark Lord wanted to get closer to Harry, to deduce the boy's weaknesses.

And so he tried his best to protect the boy. He delved into his research heavily and produced a certain kind of talisman. This talisman was supposed to protect the bearer very subtlety—instead of giving outright magical protection, it emitted a compulsion charm that would hinder the attacker by introducing distractions, and other subtle tactics. This talisman served well for both him and Harry—he couldn't risk his cover being blown away if Lockhart was really the Dark Lord, but he needed to protect his charge. It seemed the talisman was working perfectly, as he didn't hear about any more private detentions between Harry and Lockhart.

Yet that wasn't all. Snape had actually gone to Dumbledore with his suspicions. The Headmaster had listened to his Potions Professor this time, perhaps because he didn't want to further damage his relationship with the Potions Master. That, and the fact that the Potions Master was always serious about Harry's well being.

Thus, he was busy doing everything possible to protect Harry, from behind the scenes. And in the process, he had managed to neglect the boy's well being. He forgot to engage the boy in their usual conversations. And Merlin knew the boy needed the interaction so much. He had failed the boy now, and as a result, Harry had lost his faith in him.

Now they were inside Diagon Alley, sitting at one of the tables inside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Snape was trying to cheer the boy up by spending his day off with his charge, but so far his efforts were proving to be unsuccessful. The boy was stubbornly non-responsive, and it took 15 minutes for Snape to persuade the boy to choose his own ice cream flavour. The boy looked devoid of emotion and interest, and was watching Snape closely, as though trying to obtain as many silent cues as possible on how to behave.

In the end Snape offered to choose the flavour for him. Harry agreed and he took out some Sickles from his pocket, giving them to the professor. Snape cursed himself and clarified that he didn't want Harry to pay. To that, Harry only nodded and took his place at one of the tables after Snape ordered him to do so.

The boy hadn't talked much ever since the dinner from four days ago. He seemed continuously lost in his own thoughts. They didn't talk at all while eating the ice cream, as Snape didn't know how to start a conversation and Harry didn't seem like he wanted to talk at all. Ever since the dinner from four days ago, the boy had quietly, mechanically come and gone to and from his quarters. When Snape would ask what he'd done the whole day, Harry would answer that he was studying in the library. Snape had a nagging suspicion that the boy was trying to avoid him as much as possible; perhaps he was worried about irritating Snape with his very presence.

Thus, on his free day, Snape had taken Harry out for the day. But so far, Harry was still closed off to him. His ice cream was left mostly untouched. The boy watched shoppers coming and going from the alley instead.

"Harry?"

They both turned to see a red headed young man stand in front of the ice cream table with a long haired brunette girl beside him. Snape needed several moments to realize that the speaker was the oldest Weasley boy, who was currently still studying at Hogwarts. Harry suddenly greeted him back in pleasure.

"Percy! Why are you here?"

"I am here with Penelope. We are on, uhm… a date." Percy Weasley turned beet red when he realized that the person sitting in front of Harry was the Potions Professor. Snape sneered and ignored the red head. Instead he watched as Harry smiled and his face lighted up.

A strange feeling struck him in his chest. He missed that those smile.

"Hey Harry," Penelope smiled. "It is a coincidence, yes? Are you having a day out with your guardian… oh, hallo, Professor Snape." The girl blushed as well, just now realizing that the boy she adored so much (and was familiar with only because of her proximity to Percy) was accompanied by the strict Head of Slytherin.

"Mr Weasley, Ms. Clearwater. It is nice to see you here," Snape answered in his usual snide tone. Both students looked embarrassed, but Harry was already standing.

"Sir, can I talk to Percy for a moment?"

Snape nodded, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. The child looked happier upon running into Weasley, than when he was with Snape all that time.

Harry ran towards Percy and Penelope, and soon the three of them were chatting it up. Percy and Penelope let Harry choose their ice cream flavours, while Harry happily obliged and gave them three scoops of vanilla, chocolate chip, and Belgian chocolate. Snape watched in silence, then compared the choices to the ice cream he had chosen for both him and Harry, which were on the table: Liquorice for him and Strawberry delight for Harry. He was forced to admit to himself that he had chosen the wrong flavour. And somehow it made him want to berate himself for being unable to choose the right ice cream flavour for Harry.

This was getting ridiculous.

"Professor." Suddenly a voice called out to him. Snape looked up to see Percy Weasley standing beside him, looking very uptight. "Can Harry come to visit me sometime in this holiday?"

"…Yes, if your parents give their consent."

Weasley smiled to him. "Thank you sir! Let me tell Harry!" and with that, he ran back towards Harry and Penelope. Harry looked positively radiant when he heard what Percy said, and they all laughed together.

Why did the whole thing make Snape feel so forlorn?

* * *

Two days afterwards, Harry arrived inside the Burrow through the Floo network.

Harry landed flat on his face, and his nose hurt quite a bit. He didn't like the method of transport at all. A pair of hands suddenly pulled him up, and when Harry looked up to say thank you, he saw two identical faces in front of him.

Each looked like a mirror image of the other. And both of them looked like they were assessing Harry closely. Harry felt awkward and subconsciously took a step behind him. The twins suddenly grinned. One of them spoke out loud.

"Twirl around."

So Harry, being Harry, obeyed the direct order and twirled around. The soot from the Floo scattered around him, making some kind of mild sandstorm. The twin on the right then smirked.

"Jump up."

Harry jumped. Some remainder of the soot fell from his boots. Then the twin on the left smirked.

"Your hand."

Harry put his hand on top of the left twin's hand. And it was quite a contrast between his small hand and the twin's wide palm.

The room was silent for a few seconds. And suddenly Harry was hugged by both of the twins.

"Forge, this is so bad! He is too innocent and obedient! We need to protect him!"

"Yes, Gred, this puppy is too adorable! Look at his beautiful eyes! Percy would eat him alive!"

"GUYS!" Percy shouted from their back. "Stop it! Harry is not a dog!"

The twins replied by making some faces towards Percy, but they still wrapped their hands around Harry as they did so. The boy was suffocating in the middle of the twin sandwich, and he was so embarrassed from having being pranked (or played with) by the twins. Harry was blushing so deeply and looked so red that everybody stopped screaming to each other.

Percy looked mortified. After succeeding in rescuing Harry and pulling the younger boy into his own room, Percy apologized.

"I am sorry for their attitude. They are uncontrollable, and it is very impolite for them to play you like that. I hope you can forgive them, Harry. They should learn from you. I wish you were my little brother, instead of them…"

"PERCY! OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR!" Suddenly the door started banging around. Harry jumped in surprise. "The twins told me that Harry Potter is here! Is that true?"

"Stop it, Ron! You'll break the door! And NO SWEARING in the house!" Percy yelled back and opened the door, revealing the gangly teenage known as Ron Weasley. Harry's eyes went wide and he braced himself for any insult. When Ron saw the black haired boy, he turned a bit pink and he stuttered.

"Why…Why is the Slimy Slytherin here?"

Percy growled in annoyance. "Ron, watch your mouth. Harry is my guest and I won't let you insult him while he is in our house."

"But…But… It's not fair! Why did you get to invite him as your friend and I didn't…! Ah, I mean…" The youngest Weasley boy went beet red, "Why do you even want to invite him, of all people!"

Harry hid behind Percy and watched as the two brothers argued with each other. The arguments escalated when the twins came along and started to insult both Percy and Ron. They also tried to kidnap Harry from Percy. Ron suddenly defended Harry from Fred, while Percy shielded Harry from being taken by George. It ended up being a sort of tug of war between the twins and team Percy-Ron. Harry was in the middle, arms stretched as he was pulled by two sides. His arms hurt, he couldn't take the pulling anymore, so, using his magic, he fended off both sides with a snap, and all of them ended up tumbling on the floor.

And he didn't know why, but it felt so funny that Harry started laughing. The twins followed and soon all five of them were laughing their hearts out. It was then that Harry realized something. The boy felt for the first time how it was like to be in a family. A happy family.


	15. Chapter 15

Ron Weasley pouted. The whole day had been a disaster. He admitted that he'd been surprised when the twins had made a racket about how Harry Potter was inside their house. On his own, he'd investigated and found that his freaking 'proper' older brother Percy had actually established some kind of formal relationship with Harry Potter, one that was close enough to actually invite the slimy Slytherin into their house.

Did Percy not  _know_  how evil Slytherins were? And to be honest, he was quite angry about how receptive the twins were to the Boy Who Lived. Of course, Harry Potter was akin to a celebrity; capable of even making Ginny blush uncontrollably and stalk the Slytherin from 5 feet afar; but Ron had previously always believed that behind the joker mask of each twin, they each were aware of the inherent evilness of Slytherins. And his brothers should never make friends with anyone who was evil!

Moreover, throughout the whole day, Harry Potter stole the (his) spotlight again and again. Usually the twins would play and mess around with Ron. Ginny would look up to him, and Percy would stay silent the whole time in his room studying. But  _no_ , because Harry Potter was there today, Percy came out from his room and actually stayed outside his room the whole day, which had rarely happened before; the twins smiled and followed Harry around the whole day; and his little sister was mute for the day, but her eyes never once strayed too far from wherever Harry was. So in essence, Harry stole  _his_  place in the family.

Just like at Hogwarts. Harry Potter should be in Gryffindor, the House of the brave. Harry Potter should be a wizard of the Light, and he should be Ron's friend. Moreover, the boy was pathetic, but he was very strong. Ron couldn't defeat him in any way, in any class—the git actually had the gall to always succeed in casting any new Charms in his first try! And the worst thing was, even though he was a Slytherin, Harry Potter still had people's constant attention on him. Why couldn't everyone realize that since Harry was in Slytherin—he  _had_  to be evil?

So Ron retaliated and showed his brothers and sister how Slytherin-esque Harry Potter was—the boy was silent, proud and arrogant like Malfoy, cunning like Nott, and looked down on everyone else who was not a Slytherin, like how Zabini always did. He told his brothers and sister how Harry looked down on them because of their family's lack of money (he couldn't say the word "poverty," he wouldn't admit it, even to himself, and he wasn't sure that was the right word either. Vocabulary was not his strength, unlike the know-it-all Granger). He showed his siblings how Harry Potter was too arrogant to play with them—heck, the boy didn't even want to play chess with him, and had lied by saying that he didn't know how to play chess. Who the hell didn't know how to play chess?

And he was even angrier whenever Percy scolded him for being impolite and improper. He hated it when the twins actually stared at him with coldness in their eyes, reminding him that Ron needed to control his temper. Even Ginny looked at him with pitiful eyes before resuming her staring at the Slytherin. Couldn't they see what was happening? Harry Potter, the slimy Slytherin, was  _controlling_  them! He was manipulating Ron's siblings!

The boy was silent too, as if whatever Ron said didn't matter. No matter how Ron tried to make him angry, Harry Potter pretended not to listen, instead ignoring his entire existence. And Ron was left in the corner, watching in contempt how well the boy got along with his siblings. Heck, the boy blushed and laughed in front of the twins as if he was innocent… and yes, he could act so well. Harry Potter looked adorable the whole time. Especially when Percy adoringly (adoringly! Percy never even did that to him!) rubbed Harry Potter's messy hair and taught Harry how to play chess.

He was in a foul mood, which lasted until it was dinner time and his mother actually invited the Slytherin git to have dinner in their home. Now, Ron loved his food and he knew that his family wasn't well-off enough to buy a lot of food. They had more than 5 people to feed in the house. Ron had been holding back his food intake compared to what he'd had in Hogwarts. He was considerate to his family in that way. But now, with Harry Potter also eating from his family's dinner table, his food quota would decrease even more! Wasn't Potter supposed to be one of the richest purebloods? Shouldn't he be the one buying them dinner, and not the other way around?

His good mood didn't return even when the Slytherin git left through the Floo network back to Hogwarts. He even saw his mother dabbing her eyes, wiping the tears on her face. His father squeezed her shoulder and smiled sadly as well, commenting,

"He is such a good boy. I pity him for having such a harsh life."

What harsh life? Harry Potter was famous and rich! He was pampered and all that! Alright, he was actually shocked when his friends had told him the dirty gossip about the boy's home life, but surely, it was all an exaggeration? Wasn't that what usually happened when the newspapers were reporting such things anyway?

He went to bed in a very foul mood, and he couldn't sleep. He was too angry to do anything else. And that's why he returned to the living room. Maybe his mother had left a glass of warm milk in the kitchen or something. He was feeling rather hungry. Damn all the frustration he felt—it'd used up his energy!

Inside the kitchen, he saw his father sitting on a stool while doing some paperwork on the dinner table. His father looked up and smiled at him, knowing that his smallest son would be hungry again. The boy's appetite knew no bounds. But when he saw the flushed face and an imminent scowl on his son's face, he realized he needed to be a father and talk to his son.

"Ron, what happened? Why you look so angry?"

With that one question, the dam barring all of Ron's emotions suddenly dam burst. He told his father everything—how Harry Potter had milked his fame at school and had manipulated the whole bunch of Weasley children except him, how Harry Potter was so arrogant and refused to play chess with him, how the boy had lied and said he couldn't play chess, how he stayed and shamelessly ate from their table, how the boy had ignored Ron the whole day and how the boy had irritated him by looking so… so damn innocent all the time! He was a really good actor and a liar, for he'd acted so adorably that even Percy was fooled!

His father listened throughout the rant. By the end of the blubbering, his father sighed and asked him to calm down.

"Ron, why do you think Harry Potter is evil?"

"Because he is a slimy Slytherin, that's why!"

"So because he is a Slytherin, everything he does is manipulative and everything he says is a lie?"

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed with full confidence.

"So," his father smiled. "In your head, it's like this— by being a Gryffindor, you are automatically a brave boy."

"Yes, I guess?" Ron smirked in confidence. "I was the one who'd actually brought the dragons Hagrid had to the tower…" and he stopped talking at once, as the act of remembering Hagrid suddenly made him confused and sad. Ron hadn't known what to believe when Hagrid had been caught and accused as the perpetrator of the whole Chamber of Secrets scandal; but his father cut his train of thought with a question.

"Can you touch a spider?"

Ron's face automatically paled. He silently looked down. No, he couldn't. He was quite afraid of spiders. He was very afraid of them, actually.

"And if I say I am afraid of dogs, would you think I am not suitable to be in Gryffindor anymore?" His father tilted his head, looking earnest.

Ron shook his head. No. His father was a Gryffindor, even though he was afraid of dogs. Just like Ron was a Gryffindor even though he was still afraid of spiders.

"No, dad. You are still a Gryffindor."

"Then don't you think Harry Potter, despite being a Slytherin, may be a good boy as well?" his father gently asked. " Has it ever occurred to you that he didn't play chess with you because maybe he truly didn't know how to play chess? I am proud that you are good at chess, Ron. And I am sure you understand that chess is not a simple game. It has many rules. Don't you think that playing chess against somebody who didn't know the rules of chess is consider cheating? And Harry might not have been lying when he admitted he didn't know—he bravely admitted it, in fact. Don't you think that maybe Harry wanted to play with you, but since you were so angry at him, he couldn't formulate his thoughts and speak properly to you?"

Ron pouted, but he knew that his father was saying all the right things.

"Maybe instead of being angry at him, you should have taught him how to play? By doing that, you two can play it next time, together. And about the dinner—Ron, I know we are not the richest family around, but we can always afford to feed another mouth for a night only—and you saw how little he ate. Harry might have realized that you were angry at him because he was eating from our table—and he felt awkward and didn't eat much. Now if that were the case, don't you think you were being rude? How would you feel if your friend asked you to eat dinner with them, but watched every single spoonful you ate? Would you feel comfortable?"

Ron shook his head. He started to see how childish he had been. But it wasn't all his fault… was it?

His father sighed. "Ronald, you know I love you. You know this family loves you so much. We wouldn't trade you for any other children in the world. You know your siblings love you as well. You are blessed, child. Try to learn to see things from a different angle. Harry Potter lost his parents when he was a baby. And recently, as you know, he was brought up in quite an abusive environment. Now, if you put yourself in his place. If your mother and I died when you were a baby. If then you were placed in an orphanage. If you didn't have any of your siblings. What would you feel?"

Ron bit his lip. His chest was pained. Sometimes, as much as he hated his siblings for being mean to him, he couldn't imagine a life without his family.

"You are blessed with a huge family. And I know we all love each other. We may not have much money, but we have love in abundance. Can't we share a bit of our fortune with others like Harry, who have never known what having a real family feels like?"

Ron's eyes felt as though they were growing a bit watery. Somehow, even though his father was calmly and patiently explaining things to him, he felt as if though his father was berating him for being childish. He admitted that he had been very impolite and childish towards Harry Potter, but the boy was a Slytherin! He'd stolen Ron's place not only at Hogwarts, but also his rightful place in the family!

"Come here." His father opened his arms and Ron fell into an embrace. It had been so long since he was embraced by either parent. It made Ron feel blue. The boy started to sob. His father patted his back, slowly. "It's alright to admit that you are wrong, son. To admit that you are wrong is considered a brave thing to do as well. You are a brave Gryffindor boy and I am proud of you. But control your jealousy, because jealousy will only show you its ugly head, and bring you destruction. You weren't as happy as usual this whole day, were you?"

The boy nodded. His father smiled.

"See? You were so jealous that you couldn't enjoy your day. You can't even sleep now. At the end of the day, jealousy brings nothing but misery. Now, now. Let's get you a cup of warm milk and then you can go back to sleep."

Ron nodded but he refused to let go of his father. His chest was pained—and he started to remember how 'Harry Potter' had neither father nor mother to talk to—how did the boy cope? It surely had to be a very lonely existence and Ron didn't know whether he envied the other boy now or not. He would never trade his family for fame, that's for sure.

* * *

When the Hogwarts job was finished, Marvolo conducted the rituals again and gained back the majority of his soul. The pieces of his soul fit perfectly together, and in the process, he got his body back. Actually it wasn't so much a full body as a golem that was charmed to suit his soul. He then had, with the most gleeful feeling, tortured the body of the fat whale-kid in front of his still-imprisoned mother, and had burned the body of Gilderoy Lockhart. Annana complained about this, for she didn't like a the taste of roasted human, but Marvolo reminded her that she was still full from eating the remains of the whale-like boy anyway. And in order to cover up the murder of Lockhart, Marvolo had announced on Lockhart's behalf that he was going to travel around the world again, and the public shouldn't expect to see him in another 5 years. Hopefully by then the public will have forgotten all about the idiot peacock.

A bit of complication had ensued when they merged, since Tom's young idealistic views and Marvolo's more cynical views of the truth had clashed. It ended up into a whole day of self-dialogue occurring in his head, trying to reason out which postulates were right and which were not. It was not a fun matter, especially when the facts were revealed behind the older Marvolo's obsession with Harry Potter.

The younger self had shouted and screamed about how foolish the older self had been acting. Making too many Hocruxes was one thing, but actually caring for another person was a whole new problem. Hocruxes could maintain their immortality, but caring for Harry Potter, the boy who was prophesied to kill them, was simply idiotic. For one, the basic rules of magic stated that you should never care about others, because they could be used against you and serve as your weakest point. And to love your enemy sounded like willingly offering your body to your enemy to torture. The definition of submission. The definition of  _s_ _tupidity_.

It was unacceptable.

The older self reasoned that he didn't care for Harry  _that_  much. He had merely been aiming to use the boy's immense raw power. Furthermore, as Harry was Dumbledore's main weapon, using Harry meant they could bite the old man in the arse with his own weapon. The younger self screamed ' _fool_!' and ' _how naïve are you_ _about_ _your own feelings?_ ' but he was silenced by the elder's stubbornness and the memories of interacting with Harry Potter in his first year. After learning what had truly happened to the boy, the younger self reluctantly admitted that Harry should have been taught properly, so that he could have properly dealt with his main torturers (a.k.a. the Dursleys—only Petunia was currently still alive) and his main, manipulative proprietor (a.k.a. Dumbledore).

Marvolo in the end had managed to regain control over his younger self and slowly they had truly merged. Now they called himself "Marvolo." And he additionally got back his previously handsome face. Not to mention his fit physique and charming smile. Add those up with his manipulative ways of thinking and soothing voice, and everyone—from the Hogwarts bathroom cleaner, to his new secretary—was charmed and dazzled by him, and heeded every single word he said.

Charming his way through the masses was an easy job for him. People routinely fell heads over heels for him. Then he started his job under the new name of 'Marvolo Thomas Riddle-Gaunt". His job as the Deputy Head of the Auror Department proved to be the most strategic place to carry out his plans. He remembered to thank Lucius for this. And to be honest, he was quite amused at how shocked Lucius appeared when 'Lord Voldemort' had actually thanked him and promised him a handsome reward in the future. Apparently Lucius had felt it was so out of character for his Lord to do so, he had a panic attack and had only settled down when Marvolo offered him a reassuring pat at the back.

However, it was tricky when he sought to prevent Dumbledore's awareness of his new position. Marvolo managed to work for two weeks unnoticed before the old Headmaster came to the Ministry (for a trivial Hogwarts matter) and learnt that 'Marvolo Thomas Riddle Gaunt' (a.k.a TM Riddle, or Lord Voldemort) was actually working in the Auror Department. Dumbledore looked shell-shocked at the news and immediately accused him of being the Dark Lord. Marvolo was prepared for this accusation and he deflected it, simultaneously questioning the Headmaster's credibility. Marvolo then pointed out how, although Dumbledore was the defeater of Grindelwald, his prime presence was already outdated, and the Headmaster had been showing the symptoms of senility, old age and poor judgement. Due to the recent reveal of Harry Potter's severe neglect, Dumbledore's political power had lessened considerably. Furthermore, Lucius came and conducted damage control through his puppet, Cornelius Fudge. Since he was backed up by the Minister himself (and was always convincingly charming since the day he started working), most of the Ministry employees believed in Marvolo, and started to question the Headmaster's sanity as well. In the end, Dumbledore retreated in defeat, but not without threatening to expose Marvolo's 'real face'.

Lucius was quick to strike the iron while it was hot, as he presented the cases to the Wizengamot and the Supreme Court on the very same day. Since most of the voters were Voldemort's followers, the case was quickly brought forward and Dumbledore's place as the head of both courts was taken down and given to Lord Malfoy and Lord Parkinson, respectively. Dumbledore realized he was too late when he received the letter of reassignment (a.k.a. demotion) three days afterwards. When he tried to challenge the court's decision, he was resisted by many court members who mostly had personal grudges against the manipulative old goat. Lucius was glad to see that the manipulative techniques that Dumbledore had been wielding throughout the years had come back and bitten the old man in the arse. In the end, Dumbledore lost all his influential positions in the Wizarding world, save one: he only managed to maintain his position as Hogwarts' Headmaster.

Back to Marvolo's job. It was actually quite amusing to see how power could control everything. He was a new guy, but since he was in a high position, he could order Aurors around as much as he liked. And those Aurors, (fools, all of them), followed the orders like they came from Merlin himself. Of course Marvolo was cautious to not follow his heart's deepest desires, but it was ironically funny that now he had complete control over the Aurors, who were supposed to catch the 'bad guys' (like him).

Some, of course, were a bit resistant to his charms. For the most part this was easily controlled. Marvolo either wooed them with his personal charms and promises of enticing rewards, or removed them silently, as some of them were actually Dumbledore's hard-core fans. But his only real obstacle was the Head of the Department herself, one Amelia Bones. The lady was a strict and no-nonsense leader, not so much loved—but mostly feared—by all his subordinates. Marvolo could see how she (ironically) had become the Head of the Magical Enforcement Department (the most "masculine" Department that currently existed in the Ministry) although she herself was a lady. She was, in a way, more masculine than any of the other Aurors in the department. However, based on her instincts, she had actually suspected Marvolo all along and had always kept a close eye on him. She was also contacted frequently by Dumbledore, but fortunately, Marvolo knew about the contacts before Dumbledore had any say about revealing Marvolo's real identity.

Due to that problem, it was a pity that Marvolo needed to get her out of the picture. Now that he was the Deputy Head, once Bones was gone, he would be the Head of the Department. And so, three weeks into summer, Marvolo ordered a high reward for her silent murder, preferably within her own house. Nott and Avery were glad that their master had returned and, moreover, had ordered a murder. They loved the thrill of killing as much as they loved their liquor. And they carried the murder out very skilfully, ending the lady's life as quickly and as spotlessly as possible. They made it appear as if she had died from natural causes—of, specifically, a heart attack.

The death of Amelia Bones shocked the Ministry to the core. They issued an order to investigate the case and the Minister appointed Marvolo as the new Head of the Auror Department at once. Marvolo happily followed the decree and he pretended to 'investigate' and make sure that the Britain Wizarding World was still 'safe'. He arranged for a few foolish new Aurors to investigate the matter while making the more competent ones like Kingsley Shacklebolt do the paperwork. He conducted this so smoothly that nobody even realized he was orchestrating everything. As expected, the inexperienced investigation team of Aurors concluded that Amelia Bones' death was caused by a heart attack, and not by murder.

And that was how Marvolo became the Head of Magical Enforcement.

* * *

Marvolo's promotion was officiated the day before the burial of Amelia Bones was held. Marvolo had been strolling along Diagon Alley, performing his patrolling duties. Suddenly some reporters came out of nowhere and bombarded him with questions, asking for comments and taking his picture. Marvolo knew that, despite his distaste for the press, publicity was important for securing his good graces in public eye. So he answered the questions diplomatically, stating his grief over the wonderful Head's death and pleading to the public to support him in his new role as the Head of the Department. He managed to charm the public and soon he was surrounded by many onlookers, who became his fans (either from his handsome looks or via the charming way he was acting).

While surrounded by reporters, Marvolo had been smiling for half an hour and honestly his jaw hurt like hell. He had always wondered how on earth Gilderoy Lockhart had ever found public attention like this so desirable. He honestly wanted to kill every single one of these reporters, but it wouldn't do for his future status, of course. So he endured the public's attention patiently, until he almost snapped. At that exact time he saw the child he would recognize anywhere, standing in the middle of a group of redheads, and a sour-looking Snape.

"Oh, Harry Potter! What an honour to see you here!"

Marvolo went over to the group, running away from the unforgiving crowd. When they saw him, the Weasley clan's faces were full of questions, whereas Snape's face paled considerably. The redheads looked like they were out shopping for school things, and Harry was standing absent-mindedly beside the oldest Weasley boy. Marvolo smirked and nodded at the Potions Master, and the man backed down, letting Marvolo take control. Marvolo was sure Snape was already informed of his real identity by the Headmaster and thus, he didn't care to give any sort of explanation.

He shook hands with Arthur Weasley (that blood traitor) and Snape (whose hands were shaking a bit) before shaking Harry's hand and patting the boy on the head. The boy was looking at him in wonder. Those emerald orbs watched him, swimming in unreadable emotions. Marvolo then felt some touches on his own magick resource. The boy was probing his own magick resource to measure who Marvolo was. The boy always surprised him with his powerful potential.

Oh, how he had missed the boy.

"…Do I know you, sir?" the boy asked calmly, as if they were in some private place, and not in the middle of Diagon Alley with so many people crowded around them. The press kept taking pictures and lightbulbs flashed every other second.

"Maybe, my child. Marvolo Thomas Riddle Gaunt, at your service." Marvolo smiled and bowed down. Harry paled when he heard the name.

"Marvolo?" Harry squeaked. The boy paled and suddenly fell forward, losing his consciousness. Marvolo managed to catch the boy in the nick of time, and he rushed to a nearby Apparition point, thinking of nothing but how to get Harry to St Mungo's. The crowd kind of parted away and Snape followed closely behind him.

* * *

Snape wasn't sure what should he do. Hell, he didn't even know what to believe. Dumbledore had warned him last week (with many, many lemon drops and vodka glasses in between) that the handsome man in front of him was his Dark Lord. Since Snape had joined the Death Eaters when Voldemort already losing all his facial and cranial hair (a.k.a. becoming eyebrow-less and bald), Snape couldn't find any similarities between the snake-like man and the charming peacock in front of him. Truthfully, this man was just like Gilderoy Lockhart, only a lot more charming and poised, and with black hair instead of blond.

And if the man was truly the Dark Lord, then why did he look so worried now? When Harry had fainted, he was the first one to catch the boy and rush the boy to St Mungo's. And ever since then, Snape hadn't gotten any sign of him wanting to kidnap Harry and take him away. The man had instead just silently sat down beside Harry's bedside and had held Harry's hand the entire time. Hell, even Snape could detect the sincerity of the man's actions. Or maybe the man was just an accomplished actor.

Then he got his answer. Once the Healers were out from the room, the man suddenly spoke in the hissing voice he knew so well.

"Severussss…."

"My Lord." Snape kneeled automatically, but the man waved his hand and signalled for him to stand. Snape complied.

"I am back and I have changed. No longer is violence my path; I will slowly take this rotten culture down from the bottom—and fear not, I won't lose my mind anymore. You have done a good job of protecting Harry Potter, and I want you to continue to do so."

"Yes, my Lord." Snape bowed. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Don't even come to me if you fail to protect Harry. I'll find you and skin you alive."

Snape shivered for a bit, but he maintained his silence. The question of 'why' was ringing in his head. And then suddenly, one Auror entered the room.

"Sir! Your presence is required at tonight's meeting. I am here to fetch you."

The Dark Lord in disguise (or maybe not, since he was in his real appearance now) sighed. "Fine. I will come out in five minutes. Let me talk to Severus Snape first."

"Yes, sir!"

The Auror went out from the room and Marvolo stood, shoulder to shoulder with the tall Snape. "Dumbledore is a sinking ship. I appreciate your feelings towards the boy's mother, but your wariness of me is no longer needed. I will not harm Harry Potter and I will never take back my word. So you need to choose between your two masters. I am not going to accept being two-timed by another. Oh, and inform me as soon as Harry is awake."

The man left Snape standing in the room, frozen from fear and distress.

* * *

 _He found himself standing beside Percy, and the red-headed boy patiently taught him how to play chess. Harry's chest was still in a bit of pain because of Ronald Weasley's_ _previous_ _words. The red headed_ _,_ _gangly teenager_ _had_ _accused him_ _of_ _being arrogant and a liar_ _,_ _because Harry_ _hadn't_ _wa_ _nte_ _d to play chess and_ _apparently_ _he didn't know how to play chess. That reminded Harry of why he couldn't tolerate the_ _younger_ _red-headed boy._   _The boy_ _had_ _always tried to hurt him ever since_ _his_ _first year_ _at Hogwarts_ _. Harry subconsciously_ _equated_ _Ronald Weasley_ _to a_ _Duddley of the_ _W_ _izarding world._

_The twins were better than Ron, if not a bit scarier. They both circled around him like two owls around one mouse. They were funny and full of surprises, making Harry jump from surprise every time they did or said something outrageous. The twins had even made Harry laugh for half of a day one time. They played constantly (using him as an object) but sometimes their jokes went a bit too far. Harry knew the twins meant well, but he didn't really appreciate how harshly they treated others. He felt as though they were cooped up in one world, and the boundary of civilization was between them and everybody else. Sometimes they hurt other's feelings without caring or realizing it, because they didn't really care about hurting other's feelings at the expense of their own entertainment._

_Ginny was a sweet little girl. But Harry was a bit afraid of her eyes, since they never left him ever since he had first met her. She always flushed whenever Harry saw her—and when Harry tried to speak to her, she could only chirp in nervousness._

_Dinner was another awkward affair. Harry was invited and he ended up joining their table for dinner. The Weasley parents were very good people; they smiled a lot and kindly engaged Harry in many conversations. Percy was busy scooping food into his plate whereas the twins were busy taking out the food from Harry's plate and transferring it to theirs. It made the whole table except Percy and Ron laugh. But Harry honestly felt Ron's unwaveringly hostile stare directed at him during the whole dinner. It seemed like the boy was angry because Harry was eating in his home. Subconsciously, Harry chose to eat even less than usual that day. Unfortunately this prompted the Weasley matriarch to ask him whether he didn't like the food. And Harry was trapped in a dilemma of not wanting to upset the kind lady, or not wanting to anger Ronald Weasley further. In the end, he ate from his plate until it was clean, but he didn't touch the dessert, instead allowing his dessert to be Ronald's portion._

Harry's eyes fluttered open, head still immersed in the dream-like memory of when he'd last visited The Burrow. It was a good time, except for the bits involving Ronald Weasley. That was why he never went to The Burrow again, even when Percy asked him again. They ended up making promises to do their school shopping together, which was supposed to be today… and where was he?

Everything was white. The walls were a creamy colour, but the ceiling was white. Harry looked around to find familiar-looking chairs, and he was on a familiar, uncomfortable bed, with blankets that smelled of antiseptic. He knew this room. He had stayed in this room for ages last summer. He was at St Mungo's Hospital, once again. Why this was so, he wasn't sure.

"You are awake." The voice he knew so well suddenly came from the door. Harry turned around to see his Potions Professor walking towards the bed, a vial of potion in hand. "How do you feel now?"

"Professor?" Harry asked, watching as the dark haired man take a chair and sit beside Harry's bed. "What happened?"

"You fainted in the middle of Diagon Alley, Apparently you are very much distressed and your head just suddenly shut down from the panic. What happened, Harry? Do you feel better now?"

Harry closed his eyes. He had fainted—this was so embarrassing. But why did he…?

The backlash. The sudden strong magical aura that had surrounded him, suffocating him in an instant. The powerful aura that had probed back to his magical resource. And the image of this owner of the strong aura came into his mind.

_Marvolo Thomas Riddle-Gaunt at your service._

That opened Harry's eyes immediately.

Tom? Marvolo?

In one body?

In real life?

Everybody was fucking with his mind.

"Where is he?" Harry asked suddenly. "Where is Marvolo?"

"You know him?" Snape looked surprised at his charge. He bit his lip and peered deep within his own thoughts. Harry couldn't wait. He straightened up from the bed and grabbed his guardian's arm. It was something that he needed to know. He wanted to know why on earth Tom or Marvolo had appeared now. And why he now had a body.

"Where is he, Professor? Where is Tom?"

"Harry? Do you want me to call him here?"

The teenager stopped babbling and moving. Did he want to meet Tom and Marvolo? Now, of all times? Now, after he had managed to tuck every negative emotion inside his head and carefully into the Harry's Box? Now, when he had become numb and felt nothing but the nice emptiness? Did he really want to see them again? Would he break down again, from the pain of betrayal and loneliness that he'd experienced from the summer a year ago?

Harry knew that they were the same man, but why had they come now? And why had he approached Harry with a smile, as if he were  _happy_  to see him? Hadn't Tom and Marvolo left him because he was useless? Wasn't that what had happened over the succession of the past two years, where Marvolo had become his anchor in Harry's first year, and Tom had become his friend in his second year, only to leave Harry by himself at the end of each year? Was it going to happen again? Was that a game for Marvolo because it was fun for him, to play with Harry's feelings?

Hadn't he gone through enough?

Would Harry let himself be played again?

 _No_ , he had decided. He didn't want to meet Tom or Marvolo or whatever he was calling himself nowadays. He didn't want to get near Marvolo again. He'd had enough of the abandonment. His heart had been broken so many times that he didn't have anything to break anymore. He couldn't let Marvolo in. He wouldn't survive the whole cycle again. He'd had enough. He didn't want to be hurt anymore.

"No… Please sir, no. Please, don't let me see him. Please."

Snape gravely nodded. He called back the Healer, and let Harry be checked before he swiftly Floo'ed with Harry back into Hogwarts.

Snape decided against informing his Dark Master about Harry's wakefulness.

* * *

Marvolo was angry.

Not only had he found that Harry was awake the day before, Snape had taken the teenage boy back to Hogwarts. Marvolo had been caught unguarded because that day, Amelia Bones' funeral had been held, and everybody had expected him to attend the ceremony for the whole day. Just when he had finally returned to his office and checked on Harry did he know Harry was gone. That was a really low blow, because now Marvolo certainly couldn't meet with Harry. Not only was Hogwarts was an impenetrable fortress, Albus Dumbledore would never let him in the entrance, even in times of peace, for sure.

_Snape is going to pay for this._

"Sir." Suddenly an Auror entered his office. "We have an urgent matter at hand! There was a break out from Azkaban! Hagrid the half-giant and Sirius Black are missing, sir!"

Marvolo was stunned for a second, but then his lips formed into a smile. The situation might have been unexpected, but he could use it towards his own goal…

* * *

 

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Was posted on FF . net : http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7980329/1/Harry_Potter_and_The_Death_Wish
> 
> Will move here since ff now have witch hunt. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and Kudos are welcome!


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